Black Skies
by Red Warrior
Summary: He had thought, now that his kids were older, that he could spend the rest of his life doing some mercenary work and living in peace. However, that black disaster happened and spread all over Tellius. Set years after FE10, many pairings.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: Hello everyone! This page is just there to show a quick description of people that are related to this story. There are a lot, for this is the result of a RP story I wrote with my cousin. They are ours, no stealing!

**Eldan **

Age: 18

Parents: Ike and Elincia

**Kylie**

Age: 16

Parents: Ike and Elincia

**Nephylio **

Age: 13

Parents: Ike and Elincia

**Tekar**

Age: 18

Parents: Soren and Ilyana

**Lily**

Age: 5

Parents: Soren and Ilyana

**Syaoran**

Age: 17

Parents: Bastian and Lucia

**Sileas**

Age: 18

Parents: Boyd and Sigrun

**Yorrick **

Age: 16

Parents: Boyd and Sigrun

**Daniela**

Age: 18

Parents: Gatrie and Astrid

**Sandra**

Age: 17

Parents: Shinon and Marcia

**Ryo**

Age: 9

Parents: Volke and Nephenee

**Arthur**

Age: 17

Parents: Geoffrey and Calill

**Onyx **

Age: 16

Parents: Rhys and Mia

**Skyla**

Age: 7

Parents: Oscar and Tanith

**Shiram**

Age: 7

Parents: Haar and Jill


	2. Loss

**Disclaimer: **Not a really happy story this time, but I felt like writing something like that, for once. Let me know if I suck

**BLACK SKIES**

Dark. Dark, dark, and dark again. Ike couldn't have focused on anything even if he tried. It was pitch black in the forest and unusually quiet. If it wasn't for Ragnell he held tightly in his hands, and Soren by his side, the Commander might have freaked out. But years of experience taught him to keep his cool if he wanted the mission to be a success. And he wouldn't stand failing; the circumstances were not helping.

"We were supposed to meet with them here," the blue-haired man said.

"That's the sixth time you've said that since we got here," Soren answered coldly, but his voice held some level of fright, only to those who knew him well. And Ike could pretend to that title; he had grown up with the Branded, had been to his wedding with the thunder mage Ilyana, had gazed upon his newborn children. Just as Soren did for him.

Soren hadn't changed much; he had grown a few inches taller, and his face had left behind some of his youthful appearance, but that was it. Despite his best friend's appearance, Ike knew that it had been almost twenty years since the fall of Ashnard, since that fateful day he had sliced the Mad King in two and restored peace all across Crimea. He had married, he had had children, and so did the other mercenaries and their friends. He had aged – Elincia had pointed out that he had some grey hair a few days before, and that had scared him – and he had thought, now that his kids were older, that he could spend the rest of his life doing some mercenary work and living in peace.

However, _that _happened.

At first, it had been some sort of rumor. It was said that a mysterious illness had made quite a few victims in northern Crimea, but nobody thought anything of it. Sicknesses came and went, after all, this one would tame down after a while. But it didn't; two months later, they learned not only that the illness had reached Melior, but also that those who had died… hadn't stayed dead. They had risen from their deathbed, only mere shadows of the people they used to be, with only one goal in mind: spreading the "illness".

It was at the exact moment this news reached the mercenary fort that everything had started going downhill. People from Crimea had hopped onto boats and carriages in order to flee the virus, but unbeknownst to them, this had only served to spread it even more, for infected people had tagged along. This is how Daein, then Begnion and Gallia, and even the outskirts of Kilvas, got infected. Phoenicis, thanks to its sharp cliffs, hadn't suffered… yet.

Which led to Ike and friends' situation; they were all huddled up in their former mercenary fort, waiting, hoping for some improvement. With Melior no longer safe, Elincia had come over with her retainers Geoffrey, Bastian and Lucia, as well as the latter two's son, Syaoran. Friends from Begnion, such as Tanith and Sigrun, had also joined them when Sienne had fallen victim to those monsters who, according to what witnesses said, were black as night and dripping with a dark fluid. But the mercenaries still had to see them with their own eyes.

During the day, the company gathered food and water, and at night they patrolled around the fort to make sure the forest was clear of any danger. They took turns, walking to the edge of the forest and coming back to check if nothing was climbing up the cliff. Then they usually came back and went to sleep. This routine had been going on for a week, and everything was going smoothly so far. But that night, Ike had a bad feeling about their situation.

And it was no random night: it was the night the kids decided they would be the ones patrolling the grounds.

"They should have come back fifteen minutes ago," Ike pursued, biting the skin around his thumb, a clear indication that he was about to freak out. "We shouldn't have let them go alone, we should have made them stay at the fort."

Soren sighed. "Calm down, Ike. They are supposed to come back if there's danger, so it's normal if they don't come back before a while. Besides, they are not exactly alone, there are six of them. Eldan and Tekar are eighteen, Sandra and Daniela are fierce fighters, Syaoran is a good magic user, and Kylie… well she can run really fast," Soren finished hesitantly, unable to find Ike's second child any fighting skills.

"That was supposed to reassure me?" The worn-out commander sighed. "How are they even supposed to see them? These damn things are black! And it's so dark out there. Even with Shinon's idea of fire arrows, it won't be easy."

"You're not helping, Ike." Suddenly, Soren stood straight, and Ike could have sworn he saw his ears perk up. "Footsteps. Someone's coming."

Ike hid behind a tree although it was too dark to see him clearly anyway. Soren followed suit, opening his Elfire tome in case the one that was approaching wasn't friendly. At best, it was one of the kids and it would just scare them. At worst…

Both men tensed up when the footsteps slowed and a hiss was heard. It seemed like the stranger had trouble breathing; so much trouble, in fact, that they stopped walking altogether to take a breath. Ike gulped, but when the sound of a body hitting the ground full force reached his ears, he felt it was his cue to make a move and he sprang from behind the tree, his sword at the ready. Soren imitated him, using his Elfire tome to create a fire ball he held in his palm to provide light – and ready to be cast in case it was needed.

However, Ike and Soren stopped dead in their tracks when they recognized the gasping mess that was writhing on the murky ground of the forest.

Soren was the first to rush to his son's side. "Tekar! What happen-"

"_Don't touch_!" the young man roared when Soren reached out to grab him. The Branded was visibly surprised, but then he brought the light closer to his son. Tekar was covered with a disgusting layer of black liquid. "Don't… touch me… it's dangerous… it burns…"

"What is it?" Soren asked softly as Ike crouched down beside him, taken aback.

Tekar panted, his cheek against the ground, and he looked like he hadn't heard Soren's question. "We… we got caught… Sandra, she…" The black-haired sword wielder erupted into a violent coughing fit which left him gasping even harder than before. "She fell off the cliff… Daniela… she lost too much blood… don't know 'bout the others…"

Soren's eyes couldn't widen more. "You mean they are… dead?"

Tekar struggled to speak without crying out in pain. "These things… they are coming… you have to run away…"

"There's no way I'm leaving you behind," the branded sage snapped, tensing up when he heard footsteps once again. "Can you get up?"

"Even if could… I'm doomed anyway, they got me…" Tekar didn't seem fazed by whoever was approaching, for he was in too much pain. "Goddess, it hurts…" His face was crushed against the ground, but Soren could have sworn he was spitting dark liquid onto the grass.

Before either Ike or Soren could draw a weapon, Syaoran jumped from the bushes, panting, and carrying a passed out Kylie on his back. He was limping, and his face bore several deep gashes from which was gushing blood as well as a darker fluid. Ike ran to him and relieved the teenager of his burden, cradling Kylie against his chest as Syaoran fell onto his knees. "She's not hurt," he rasped out.

"But you are!" Ike pointed out.

"It doesn't matter now… I'm screwed," the blond mage shook as he fell forward, hands on the ground. "They came out of nowhere, I… I couldn't fend them off… neither did Eldan…"

At the mention of his eldest son, Ike's attention was caught. "Where's Eldan? Is he all right?" But he knew deep down the reason why his son hadn't followed Syaoran.

"He's dead…"

Still. The blow hurt more than a kick to the head. Ike didn't even register when Syaoran fell onto his side near Tekar, clutching his stomach, his body writhing in pain.

"Man… I never thought he would die before me… guess it doesn't matter much… I'm a goner anyway," Soren's son whispered as black tears ran down his cheeks. His broken-hearted father used the hem of his cloak to mop the tears in an effort to hold back his own. "Dad… go away… you too Uncle Ike… tell Shinon and Gatrie I'm sorry… tell Mom I love her… tell Lily I'll miss her…" Tekar's voice lowered down to a breathing sound and Soren cradled his son's head to his chest, rocking him gently. "Just want you to know… I love you Dad…"

"I love you too, my son," Soren almost whimpered. "Please fight it…"

"If I ever… attack you… kill me…" Tekar's eyes closed halfway as he felt himself beginning to drift away. "In fact… could you please kill me now, because… I've never hurt so much in my whole life…" The young man coughed again and Soren put him back on the floor in order to ease his breathing. In doing so, Tekar caught sight of Syaoran's lifeless body spread out on the ground, unmoving. "Syao… I liked you too… Ah!" Tekar's body gave a sudden jerk as the black fluid seemed to get absorbed by his flesh.

"What's happening?" Soren asked fearfully.

"Hnn… you have to… you have to go away… run away, damn it…"

"I said I'm not leaving you behin-"

"_Get the hell away from here_!" Tekar barked with his last forces before his body went completely limp on the ground.

Although he was positively scared out of his skin, Soren couldn't gather enough courage to run away. He just stood there, staring at the no longer moving body of his first son, shaking, but unable to put distance between himself and Tekar.

Meanwhile, Ike had managed to shift Kylie so he could carry her on his back. Once she was settled, the commander reached out and grabbed Soren by his sleeve. "Soren… come on, we have to get away… come on…" Ike tugged on the sleeve and winced when the sage took a step back, limp in his grasp. "Soren I know this is hard… but it's useless now, let's get back… it's still dangerous out there. Soren, are you even listening to me?"

Kylie chose that moment to come to; her eyes slowly slid open as she realized she was being carried on someone's back. "Is that you, Syaoran?" she whispered, but once her sight came to rest upon her father's blue locks instead of her boyfriend's blond ones, she frowned. "… Dad?"

"Please stay still, Kylie, we're going back," Ike instructed as calmly as he could, all the while trying to tug Soren away from the two corpses.

"Where is Syaoran?" Now a bit more awake, the blue-haired girl looked around, and gasped loudly upon seeing the blond mage's body spread out on the ground a few feet away. "Goddess! Syaoran!" Kylie struggled to escape her father's grasp which, fortunately for her, had slackened when he had tried to lead Soren away. As soon as her feet were on the ground, she rushed to Syaoran's side and feel onto her knees beside him.

"Kylie, wait, come back!" Ike shouted. "It's not safe!"

Kylie ignored him and grabbed Syaoran's face in both of her hands, tearing up. "You big idiot! Why did you have to protect me? Look where it led you!" She lightly shook his head, her first sob escaping from deep inside her throat. But she gasped soundly when the teenager's eyes opened. "Syaoran! You're alive!"

Ike tensed; Syaoran was dead. He had seen him die moments before. The bad feeling was back. "Kylie, step back," he pleaded.

But his daughter wasn't listening; she just hugged her boyfriend's head without noticing his eyes were a tad darker than what they used to be. "I'm so glad you're not dead!" she exclaimed, pulling away to take a good look at Syaoran's face, and gasping at what she saw. Barred teeth and black liquid dribbling down the chin of what used to be a wonderful young man.

Kylie yelped and jumped away when Syaoran growled, his lifeless dark eyes staring at her. When he made to jump at her, Ike grabbed his daughter and pulled her away, at the same time sending a powerful kick to Syaoran's face. The younger one fell down with a feral growl. Immediately, Tekar shook himself awake and got to his feet clumsily, foul liquid running down his arms and his face.

Ike hugged Kylie close. "Soren! Let's go!"

This seemed to shake the Branded out of his trance. "Yes! Quick!"

Both men wasted no time taking off running, followed more slowly by the two undead bodies which were moaning and growling for all they were worth, but slowed down by their earlier wounds.

Clutching her father around the neck, Kylie looked back in fright at the two moving bodies she couldn't bring herself to call her friends anymore. "They're following us!" she shouted.

"Let's cross the river, I think it'd be too deep for them!" Soren shot over his shoulder.

Ike nodded and kept on running until they reached the thirty foot-wide stream of running water. Both men jumped in and easily enough crossed the river, waist-deep in water. They reached the other side the exact moment the two monsters entered the river. Frustrated moans indicated that the stream was too violent for them to struggle through it, and it sounded like they were getting carried away. But Ike wasn't about to look back to make sure of it.

"Don't turn back, the fort is over there!" Soren called, pointing to the mercenary construction a few yards away.

The blue-haired commander nodded and sped off in the right direction, leaving Tekar and Syaoran behind for the very last time.

When they reached the massive gates of the fort, the tip of a crossbow was thrust through a hole in the wall. "Who's there?" a voice that Ike identified as Boyd's shouted.

"It's us, Soren and Ike!" he yelled back. "Open that door! Hurry!"

Thrown off guard by his commander's pleading tone of voice, Boyd let the crossbow fall on the ground and rushed off to undo the huge locks that held the gates closed. Then he grabbed the heavy handle and pulled with all his might, opening the door slightly. As soon as it was possible, Ike squeezed inside and so did Soren.

Boyd slammed the door close as quickly as possible, sliding the locks back into place with trembling hands. "Sheesh, man! What the heck happened over there?" the fierce warrior asked.

Ike opened his mouth to answer when Kylie collapsed on the ground, hiding her face in her hands and finally allowing herself to sob as hard as she had wanted to when she had realized her closest friends were dead. Unable to hold his weight any longer, Soren sat on the ground, looking at the wall of the stables in silence. They had survived many days… and all it took was one night to rob them of five persons, five young people who hadn't even had the time to enjoy life to its fullest. Five of their children. Reduced to lifeless beasts they know had to kill.

Soren didn't even realize tears had begun to flow down his face.

The sounds of the door slamming close and someone sobbing had Nephylio running out of the main building of the fort. He stopped dead in his tracks and his blue eyes widened when he took in the sight of his elder sister sitting on the ground, crying her heart out. "Kylie?" he asked hesitantly as he came closer and crouched down in front of her. "What's the matter?"

His sister didn't answer; she just flung her arms around him and hugged him in a death-like grip to her chest, muffling her sobs in his hair. Nephylio was about to ask again, but it dawned on him that Ike, Soren and Kylie were back and nobody else was with them. Understanding her sister's sobs, he hugged her back and his breath caught in his throat.

Soren gave up on struggling and feel onto his back, looking up at the starless skies through a veil of water. His vision was so blurred with tears he didn't even register Ilyana was now standing next to him, probably attracted by the noises. "Soren?" she called out softly, but he didn't answer. She wanted to pry, but she knew him well enough to understand that he wasn't going to tell her anything until he was ready.

Twenty seconds later, a strangled sob escaped him. And: "There was nothing I could do."

Ilyana fell onto her knees near her husband, too shocked to even cry. Even in her worst nightmare, she had never thought that her precious little boy could have been taken away from her, but this was no dream, this was real. And she would never see Tekar again. Finally breaking down, the thunder sage slumped forward on Soren's chest and keened into his tunic, shaking her head as if denial would bring Tekar back .

Even though he had shed a few tears of his own, Ike knew that he couldn't allow himself to cry yet. He had to stay strong for the others, he had to stay focused so everyone else could cry and only when it was time for him to go to sleep would he let himself sob for his lost son, his own flesh and bone that had been ripped away from him.

Once he felt he was calm enough, Ike walked to the main building. There, he found Bastian leaning against a wall, waiting for who knew what. The count of Fayre raised his head when he heard footsteps approaching; Ike's red eyes made him gulp and he waited in frightened silence, not daring to ask the question that was burning his lips but still asking it with his clear blue eyes.

Ike wiped a new tear before it could slip out. How he hated to bring such news. "Bastian," he began shakily, and the use of "count" before that name was forgotten, which frightened Bastian even more, "your son… he fought with Tekar… they both died." Ike took in a shaky breath. "I'm sorry I couldn't save him."

A brick to the head would have been less painful to Bastian. For the first time in his life, the smart-mouthed diplomat was at a loss for words. Before he fell apart again, Ike squeezed the older man's shoulder and walked inside. He felt rather than heard Bastian slid down the wall to the ground.

The training room had been chosen to become the sleeping quarters of the whole group, because even in sleep, they didn't want to get separated. Mattresses, blankets and pillows were strewn all across the room, two benches were standing against the wall. The rest of the company was here, catching up on lost sleep or just sitting together, soothing younger children who were unable to sleep, such as Jill's son Shiram. Marcia was seated in between Lucia and Nephenee, and Volke was pacing restlessly through the room, throwing side glances out the window whenever he passed by it. His nine year-old son Ryo was trailing behind him, trying to figure out why his father acted so worried.

Gatrie was lying on a mattress, his head in Astrid's lap. It's been three nights and he couldn't sleep, even if he hugged Astrid and Daniela close to make sure they were all right. He felt that if he dozed off, they would be harmed, so he stayed awake all night watching over his precious girls. A few feet away, Rolf and Shinon were sitting together, furiously carving arrows and dipping them in oil. They needed to have of stash of at least thirty arrows each night to provide a useful barrier of fire around the fort.

Over the fire, Rhys and his orange-haired daughter, Onyx, were brewing soothing drinks to ease their friends' minds. Mist had wanted to help, while she could hardly walk with her nine-month pregnant belly; Rhys had sent her to rest, and Sothe had managed to get her to lie down.

There was no one else in the room; they had to be scattered in the rest of the building. Ike wasn't going to wait on them. He cleared his throat to attract attention. The effect was immediate; everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for good news, and his heart clenched at the thought of what he was about to tell them. "I… I have something to tell you…" He shook his head; might as well get it over with quickly. "Daniela… and Sandra… got themselves killed."

Gatrie sat up violently, and Marcia's mouth fell open, but before anyone else could react Ike hurried up. "As well as Eldan… Tekar and Syaoran… neither survived."

Shocked silence filled the former training room. Lucia was the first to react; she got to her feet and ran outside to look for Bastian. She crashed into him just as she got outside and clutched at his chest, hard sobs wracking her body. The blond sage hugged her close and slid down to the ground again; his tears had hardly stopped and he found himself crying again in the cold, harsh, unforgiving night.

Shinon had thrown his arrows away and was cradling Marcia to his chest, his eyes buried in her pink hair. He wanted to yell at her for allowing their only daughter to wander off in the forest when he was on watch duty, he wanted to say "I told you so" so bad it hurt, but he would never dream of it. Not when Marcia's heart was breaking apart in front of his very eyes.

Gatrie's reaction was very different from the others'. The knight jumped to his feet, ignoring his sleep-deprived state and his shocked wife, and grabbed Ike by his collar. "Who did this? Who the fuck killed my daughter?" the man seethed.

Caught by surprise, Ike was left gasping for air. "I don't know! Let me go!" A scream cut through the air, but Gatrie never let go. "Leave me be, somebody's screaming!" The commander managed to slap the knight's fists away and ran outside.

Kylie screamed again, pointing to a growing black heap atop the gates of the fort. Boyd fired the crossbow, but missed his target by an inch and struggled to nock another arrow, having never used so heavy a crossbow before.

Rhys ran to the gates, a light tome in his hands. "They keep coming back every night! Stay away everyone, and close your eyes!" As the oddly-shaped heap slithered down the gates, Rhys opened his tome and raised his free arm. "PURGE!"

A column of blinding hot white light fell from the skies and hit the black heap dead on, and Rhys watched in contentment as it writhed, hissing in displeasure, before it slithered back and disappeared from sight. The bishop held the spell for a good minute before he was sure the odd tentacles were gone; only then did he stop, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.

Mia and Onyx were immediately by his side. The swordmaster held him against her as her daughter raised her Cure staff; however, she was stopped by Rhys' hand clamping down onto the head of the staff. "Dad!" she protested.

"We don't have many left… don't waste it…" the bishop whispered hoarsely.

"You won't hold on much longer like this, this is draining your energy!"

"I'll… just sleep a little bit… and I'll be fine." Rhys sat up trying to stop his body from shaking, and managed a weak smile. "I'm the only bishop here, I can't afford to die just yet."

Onyx sighed but caved in nonetheless, giving her father a hug, relieved that the strange black things had gone away. But this isn't what everybody thought.

"Come back!" Gatrie roared, plummeting the heavy gates with powerful punches that were sure to leave his hands by a few broken bones. "Come back you bastards! Come and fight me!" Astrid was standing a few feet away, clutching onto Marcia, unable to comfort her husband.

"I'll tear you apart if you don't give me back my daughter!" the blond knight foamed.

"Come on, Gatrie, it's no use," Boyd said calmly as he got closer and took Gatrie's arm in an effort to tug him away from the doors. Boyd's eldest son, Sileas, was watching his father try to calm Gatrie with apprehension. The guy didn't look ready to cool down.

"Let me go! I'll kill those bastards with my bare hands!" Gatrie hissed, wrenching his arm out of Boyd's hold.

"You don't stand a chance, now calm down," the warrior countered, taking hold of the arm once again.

"I said LET ME GO!" Gatrie gathered his strength and packed a punch that collided full force with Boyd's face, sending him crashing into the ground some feet farther. Sileas gasped and ran to his dad's side, realizing that Boyd's arch of the eyebrow had been split open by the force of the blow, and his nose was bleeding profusely. The young man took out a handkerchief and dabbed at Boyd's face, moping up the blood and helping him to sit up.

Gatrie punched the door a few times more, before he fell onto his knees, his forehead and his palms flat against the metallic surface. "Why… Why did it have to be our kids… why my little girl… Why couldn't I have died instead of them!" Miserable beyond words, Gatrie finally allowed his tears to flow down his cheeks and onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and his blurred sight came to rest upon Boyd, who had blood hiding half of his face and tainting the front of his shirt. "Oh Goddess… what have I done…"

Feeling terrible, Gatrie clumsily made his way over to Boyd, falling on the grass beside him and grabbing the younger man into a fierce hug. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you!" the knight gasped in between sobs, his tears mingling with Boyd's blood. The green-haired man hugged the big man back to show he wasn't angry at him.

"I'm not mad," he said soothingly. "I know you didn't mean that." Boyd closed his eyes when he felt the bigger fighter's powerful frame shake with each sob; he would have never thought Gatrie would be reduced to this.

Still they were here, a pathetic heap of worn out limbs, bloody skin, shattered souls, and no one knew what would happen to them in the near future.


	3. Seventeen years

**CHAPTER TWO**

As usual, they had locked themselves up inside for the night. Sitting silently across the former training room, they mourned the loss of the young ones with sobs and heaved sighs. Some of them didn't even have any tears left in them anymore. Some of them had cried so hard they were exhausted; Lucia, for one, was sound asleep against Bastian's chest, her face buried in his shirt, her hands clutching the fabric as if he would disappear if she let go. He couldn't blame her; if something happened to him, Lucia would be all alone. There was no way she could trust her brother.

Raising his head from Lucia's, Bastian scanned the room for Geoffrey. He spotted the general sitting with his back against the wall, his knees to his chest and his chin upon them. This was no surprising sight; the blond diplomat had become used to seeing his old friend closing up on himself, all alone.

Geoffrey had suffered from major changes ever since the fall of Mad King Ashnard. He had been crushed when Elincia had chosen to marry Ike, a commoner, rather than him, her very best friend. He had spent many a night cursing himself for staying quiet and not proposing to her. But in the end… he had come to accept the fact that his Queen loved another man, and that it was just fine. He didn't feel the need to gag every time he saw them together anymore, he was even able to hold a polite, almost friendly conversation with Commander Ike.

When war came knocking at Crimea's doors a few years later, Geoffrey had fully recovered and was ready to take on battles. He fought to protect his Queen, although at one point in time he was forced to leave her behind to fight with Kieran and others. However, when the general had learnt Elincia was under attack, he had run back as fast as he could. Upon his arrival, he had stilled his horse, raised his head; that's the moment he saw _her. _

Calill's long blond hair was wiping the air as she cast spell after spell, her hand high in the air and her voice unwavering. Geoffrey remembered her all too well, although they hadn't seen each other for a few years. She had helped him sort out his feelings during the Ashnard war; she had been his confident, the shoulder he could lean on after a particularly tough battle or a sleepless night. His breath had caught.

After Ludveck had been arrested and thrown into a cell, after his sister Lucia had been saved by the Greil mercenaries, Geoffrey had approached Calill. He had asked her if she remembered him; she had laughed and slapped his arm good-naturedly, assuring him that she wasn't about to forget such a "handsome devil" as him. He had asked how things were with Largo; she had told him they had agreed to part ways. They were way too different anyway.

They had started out as friends once again, sharing stories of what had happened those last years and cheering the other up. Soon, it had evolved into something deeper; when Calill had to sit the battle out, she waited for him to come back until late in the night, or the other way around. "Don't fall behind!" soon became "I'm glad you're okay" or later "I was so worried about you". The situation could have stayed the same until, after their mind-wrecking fight with Izuka, Calill couldn't find Geoffrey in the mud-covered lands. Little did she know the blue-haired general was searching for her as well; when they had caught sight of one another, they had run, and had kissed, right in the middle of what had been battlegrounds moments before. They didn't care if they were covered in mud, or if everyone was looking at them; they had each other.

From that day on, they had become lovers. Lucia had lectured her younger brother; she thought they should have waited until the war was over. Calill thought it made sense, in a way, but still she loved it when Geoffrey snuck out of his tent at night to join her. If her days had been hell, then her nights had been nothing but pure heaven, cuddling up to the brave general's naked chest.

When the end of the war approached, however, Geoffrey became more distant. He was worried he couldn't be able to protect his Queen when the time of their final battle came, it clouded his every thought. Calill had been a bit saddened that he seemed to stray away from her, but she allowed it; she couldn't hog him. He had other things to think about.

Soon the war was over; Ashera had gone back to ashes and peace was restored again upon Tellius. Geoffrey had some things to do in Delbray; he had told her to go back with Largo for a little while and to wait for him. He had promised he would write to her and join her as soon as possible. She had believed him… how naïve of her. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months… Geoffrey never came. Always "busy" with something. Always "working" on something. He knew that he ought to have written to her, at least to show that he was still alive, but he hadn't and each day he found new reasons to wait a bit until he left to join her. He knew it was deeply irresponsible of him to abandon her like that.

What Geoffrey didn't know, however, was that at that time, she had been pregnant.

When he had arrived at the mercenary fort with Lucia, Bastian and Elincia, he had spotted the seventeen year-old boy sitting next to his former lover. Arthur, he had gathered. The teenager had short blue hair, twinkling green eyes, and his trademark grin… He immediately understood. This boy, Calill's son… was his as well. Why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't she written to him? Then again… why hadn't he?

Geoffrey sighed and opened his eyes; Calill was sitting on the other side of the room, with Arthur's head in her lap. She was stroking his messy hair as he slept soundly; she had a soft smile on her delicate features. She had carefully avoided Geoffrey ever since they had landed here, as if she was afraid of what his reaction might be. She wouldn't talk to him… and he couldn't bring himself to talk to her.

Sighing again, Geoffrey looked to his side, and immediately wished he hadn't. Near him, Bastian was trying to soothe Lucia, who had woken up and realized that she hadn't dreamed and that Syaoran was really dead. It tore at his heart to see his elder sister sob like this and, unconsciously, he wondered who would hug Calill and comfort her if something happened to Arthur. His heart skipped a beat and his eyes stung; he didn't want Arthur to die. But if that was the case, he would spend the rest of his miserable life wishing he had talked to Calill, wishing he had gotten to know his son better.

Making up his mind, Geoffrey silently stood up and made his way over to the blond woman, followed by Bastian's eyes. The former general crouched down next to Calill. "Is… everything all right?" he asked as a way to initiate communication, and immediately winced. _Nothing _was all right as of late.

"Oh… yes," Calill answered quietly, her hand never leaving her son's hair.

Great beginning. Now what? Geoffrey turned his mind upside-down for something to say, but when he finally came up with something, Arthur woke up screaming. "They got me! They bit me! I felt it!" the boy exclaimed, flailing.

Calill hugged her son to her chest, rocking him as if he was six instead of seventeen. "Hush, calm down sweetie… they didn't bite you, it was a nightmare, you're safe here."

Still Arthur shook, frightened out of his skin. "You sure?"

"Well, you don't look all black and feral," Geoffrey sniggered.

Arthur surprised him when he gave a start and clung to Calill. "Ah! Don't scare me like that!" Geoffrey muttered an apology, but his son wasn't even listening to him. "Am I going to die? Just like Eldan and Syaoran?"

"No, sweetie," Calill promised as she kissed his forehead tenderly. "Now go back to sleep, you need to rest."

Arthur mumbled something about checking himself for bite marks before he put his head back down in his mother's lap and closed his eyes, instantly falling into sleep's cold but resting embrace. Calill kept on caressing his head until he was fast asleep. "He's a bit… traumatized by what happened to the others," she explained quietly.

"I understand," Geoffrey nodded.

Uncomfortable silence fell between the two of them. Calill cautiously avoided looking up at him, keeping her gaze focused on Arthur's pale blue locks. Geoffrey stared at the woman's hands; he imagined them running down his back again, stroking his face, holding his hands…

"I'm sorry," he breathed out before he changed his mind. "I'm not… very brave." When Calill didn't answer, he felt forced to go on. "I'm sorry about what I made you go through."

"It's all right, you just did what was best for you," the beautiful sage whispered back and Geoffrey shrugged. "I can't really blame you, either. I never told you about Arthur… I thought that you wouldn't like every noble to know you went and got a bastard child from a commoner. I didn't want you to hate him."

"I don't hate him," Geoffrey assured her.

"I know."

Uncomfortable silence again. The blue-haired man rubbed his arm uneasily, searching for something to say, but Calill beat him to it.

"I didn't want to take advantage of my pregnancy. I'm sure that if you had learnt that I was pregnant at that time, you would have proposed to me, just because it's the proper thing to do. And you would have been unhappy," she trailed off.

"What makes you think I would have been?" he inquired.

"The fact that you chose not to come… and that people don't usually do things that make them unhappy on purpose." Geoffrey frowned. "However, I can't be mad at you. Because if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have the wonderful boy that's slumbering here." Calill fondly stroked her son's cheek as he slept. "The only thing I'm sorry for is that he has never said "Dad" in his whole life."

Geoffrey shifted uneasily. "What does he think about this?"

"He's sad… he asked a lot of questions… and now he's bottling it up, I think."

"What did you tell him?" By now the general was leaning forward, eager to hear what his son thought of him.

"He knows who you are… well, except your name, what you look like and why we parted."

"So he doesn't know it's… me?" Geoffrey asked, his heart clenching.

"No… he probably noticed you two look a lot alike, but he never mentioned it. He must think you're just some relative he has never heard of. However," she added in a quieter voice. "if you wish to tell him the truth… I have nothing against that decision."

Geoffrey nodded absently. "I was thinking about it… after all it's only fair that I assume the consequences of my actions."

The general winced as he heard what Calill would say next before it even reached her lips. "You are seventeen years late, Geoffrey." A sad smile punctuated her words. He didn't dare speak up again, so he waited on his former lover to do so. "Will I… ever know why you didn't come?"

The fallen noble sighed with a bit of anger. "Why does everybody seem to ask me that? Nobody gets that I had to stay in Melior… it was my job… I couldn't travel between your inn and the castle… And my father, well, he would have never allowed that." Geoffrey sighed again, this time with tiredness. "I couldn't have lived that way, I admit that I was a coward. I thought that maybe things would settle down after a while… but the more time passed, the less I dared to come… and letters seemed so useless… I don't know."

Geoffrey expected her to lash out at him, the way she would have done twenty years ago. He expected to be hit, to be slapped, to be called all sorts of nasty things, and he would have deserved it, he knew it. But Calill stayed silent, tenderly caressing Arthur's bangs.

"You… you loved me, didn't you?" Geoffrey gulped. "You must have suffered…"

"Other people suffer here on Tellius… and not from a messed up family life," Calill said softly. "Besides… bringing a kid up without a man is not easy, but not impossible… whereas growing up without a father can be really tough. I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

Geoffrey shivered, as if Calill's suffering had come and gave him a kick to the face. "I'll talk to him as soon as I can," he blurted out before he thought. "I don't expect him to welcome me with open arms, but I want him to know the truth. I'll live with myself better once it is done, although I'm aware that I don't deserve it… I don't even know why possesses you to speak to me."

Calill shrugged. "How could I ignore you? I lov-… I've loved you after all."

Geoffrey felt his heart clench again. "Believe it or not… but I wish I had come." Unable to sit next to them anymore, the general got up. "Good night," he bid softly before he walked away, his eyes glued to the ground.

He didn't look back as he exited the room, not caring if monsters were lurking outside. Once the door was closed behind him and he was all alone with the cold night, Geoffrey sighed and sat on the ground, his head in his hands. He didn't feel better than before he had talked to her. If anything, it had only served to make him more miserable.

Something moved to his left; honestly, he didn't care if it was one of those monsters coming to kill him. He was so tired of fighting he would have gladly let himself be killed, eaten, torn apart or whatever those creatures did with their victims. He had no such luck; the movement the corner of his sight had caught was merely Zephyr, Ike's dog. The wolf-like beast was always prowling around, always on his guards, watching over his home.

Geoffrey almost felt disappointed, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder. "You should not sit out there all by yourself," a familiar voice said.

The blue-haired man looked up into the sullen eyes of Bastian. The blond diplomat had long since abandoned his Shakespearian way of speech, and it had been weeks since his last smile. "Lucia was worried about you, I came to see if you were all right."

"I'm fine," Geoffrey answered, and that was a big lie. "Lucia can stop worrying."

"I'd thought that you might like to… talk with her?"

"Why?"

"… No reason. Her son just died, maybe she would like to have her brother close," Bastian said, frowning. "But I see you'd rather stay here and sulk."

Geoffrey caught the anger behind those words and sighed, running a hand through his growing blue bangs. "You don't know what it's like, to be a brother… I'd like to comfort her, but you know that since the day you married her, that responsibility went to you… and Syaoran…" Geoffrey paused to gather his thoughts and put them into words. "Actually, I have yet to realize that he's gone. It's… sad, really."

"_Sad_? You know, after all, don't try to comfort Lucia if that's all you would say," Bastian growled. "Have you spent so much time locked up in your forsaken castle that you forgot what the simple concept of "family" is? Did you forget everything?"

Geoffrey tried to ignore his angered brother-in-law and put his chin on his crossed arms. "I'm wondering if I should walk away and let those black things decide of my fate," he whispered.

Right before being slapped upside the head. "You're right, just go away," the blond man spat. "There's still some fight left in Lucia, and we cannot have that, now can we? Go on and destroy whatever keeps her from going insane!"

"I'm sorry." A sigh. "I'm tired of being sorry."

"Well, it's quite simple really. If you don't want to be sorry, make sure you don't do anything that you'd feel sorry about."

"It's too late now," the man said. "I have no real reason to stay alive. My parents are dead, my sister is married, my friends… most of them are dead, and the others hate me. My family… what family? My own son doesn't even know me…"

"But he's alive," Bastian pointed out bitterly.

"I'm dead in his eyes, so it's the same. In fact, I'd much rather be dead… I wouldn't have to face this."

Bastian snorted. "Coward."

"You don't know what it's like!" Geoffrey snapped. "You don't know her!"

"I've visited her more during these last few years than you did in your whole life!"

"Shut up!" Geoffrey stood up swiftly and pushed Bastian back into the wall. "You know nothing! You have no idea what it's like to fuck up your life! You don't get the urge to shatter mirrors every time you see your image! You don't know what it's like to wake up empty, and be aware that it's your entire fault!" By now Geoffrey had grabbed Bastian by the collar and was almost shouting. "You will _never _hate someone as mush as I hate myself! You will never want to tear someone's face to shreds as much as I want to tear mine!"

Instead of struggling, the older man just let the heartbroken general get rid of everything that weighed down on his heart. Seventeen years of self-hatred… curiously enough, Bastian felt no compassion. "You only get what you deserve," he said once Geoffrey was done. "You spent seventeen years ignoring my advice, and you have no reason to complain… your sister is alive, so is your son, and his mother never stopped loving you…"

Those last words made Geoffrey stop in his tracks. Calill… still loved him? No, it couldn't be, Bastian was playing with him. But when he looked into the older man's blue orbs, he only saw truthfulness and honesty. But how… _How _could she love him after all this? The blue-haired one finally pushed Bastian away and turned his back to him, rubbing his arm in annoyance.

"You have no reason to complain," the blond man repeated.

"Shut up, I heard it the first time," Geoffrey growled. "You're not my father."

"Well, someone has to take his place. And I'll make you feel as guilty as I want, seeing as you ignored me during seventeen years. You've lied to me, you've pushed me away; how do you expect to be helped if you push everyone's help away?"

Geoffrey stuck his hands down his pockets. "I know, I'm dumb, I'm a fool. You're happy now?" He sighed. "I'll go away tomorrow."

Bastian shook his head. "Ike will be glad to know our hopes are decreasing."

"And you'll be glad to know I don't give a damn what Ike thinks. Not, scratch that, I don't give a damn what _everyone _thinks. You, especially. You've done nothing but bring me down further, you're not helping. I can't rely on anyone, even my sister acts like you at times." Geoffrey kicked the dirt angrily. "And I gave up on the only one who really knew me. And yes I push people away; how can I do otherwise when I've been pushed away so many times?"

Bastian's brain felt like it was trying to burst from his skull; how _dare _he! "Now you listen to me, you little bastard," he hissed through gritted teeth, and Geoffrey was surprised by the tone of his voice as much as his words. "Everyone tried to help you from the very start! Lucia, Elincia, Calill and others. You left Calill behind and ignored those who came to your damn castle to go with you for a walk or have a cup of tea! You've never loved Syaoran as your nephew and while I didn't mind, it destroyed him! All those years you've pushed away those who really loved you, you've complained about being alone while you've never gone to see the woman who loved you, who still loves you and will love you tomorrow, and the day after that. That way you've never known your son, who is a great boy, and to whom I'm probably more of a father than you've ever been! And NOW you're saying that you've been pushed away!"

Bastian was left panting after his furious tirade, but he was glad to notice that Geoffrey had his head down and still hadn't answered. When he did, it was in a quiet, almost scared voice. "I've gone mad, Bastian… I've become everything that I hate… How could ever I love my son? How could I love my sister, you, or Calill, if I hate myself? I've stopped feeling… I can't laugh, I can't cry… I can't even feel sorry for the deaths of the kids…"

Bastian almost caved in and let the man go; but he regained his senses and frowned. "Then why do you want to go away? Don't you want to feel again? Everybody here likes you: Lucia, Elincia, Calill, me… even Ike wouldn't have to be pressured to admit that you're a good man."

"I don't even care," Geoffrey said, shrugging as if it was helpless.

"… You've become an empty shell… just as I feared."

"Geoffrey?"

Both men turned toward the door; here stood Lucia, one hand on the doorframe and the other on her mouth, shocked tears gathering in her eyes. It was clear that she had heard everything that had been said.

"Geoffrey… you're not going away, are you?" she asked softly, her voice breaking. When he didn't answer, she gave a strangled sob and ran at him. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him close, sobbing into his shoulder. Startled, Geoffrey just stood there with his eyes wide open for a few seconds, before he relaxed and wrapped his own arms around his sister's smaller frame. He held her as she cried against him, first unresponsive, then stroking her back. "I don't want you to die! Stay…" she pleaded between her tears.

Geoffrey stopped stroking her back and pulled away to look down at her. Lucia's delicate features were covered in tears, her once baby blue eyes now all puffy and red from crying so hard. The general's gaze softened and he stroked her bangs back to brush a kiss upon her forehead. "I'm sorry… I have to think for a while," he whispered as she rubbed her eyes.

Without waiting to see if she had something to tell him, Geoffrey turned away and began to walk at a slow pace. Bastian immediately came closer and enveloped Lucia in a warm hug, which she returned gladly, burying her face into his chest. She did not cry again, but still Bastian whispered words of comfort into her hair and caressed her back to soothe her.

They stayed like this for a few moments, until a scream shot through the night. Even more curious: it seemed to come from inside.

Lucia stiffened. "What was that?" she asked with fright.

"That was Yorrick."


	4. Lie me to sleep

**Disclaimer:** I think I'll haul this story up to M-rating thanks to the... descriptions and Shinon's potty mouth. What do you think?

**CHAPTER THREE**

Lucia looked up at Bastian quizzically. "Yorrick? What do you mean?"

"When we discovered that he had been bitten, he accepted to be a guinea pig… He's chained to a wall in a room ever since he transformed into one of those… things," Bastian explained bitterly. "So once in a while, Rhys takes samples of that black liquid hoping to discover what it is, and how it can be cured."

"Goddess," Lucia whispered, fighting back her tears.

* * *

Sileas ran from the room, struggling to breathe properly. _It's not Yorrick, it's not Yorrick… _he repeated over and over in his head, and even out loud. He panted as he closed his eyes tightly, wishing for the image of his little brother writhing on the floor of his "prison" to vanish.

Next to him, Rhys looked through a crack in the door at the bloody mess that was a sixteen year-old boy not so long ago. "We can't get close if he keeps on trashing around like that," he mused, frowning. "Shinon, do you have some arrows left?"

The red-haired sniper nodded. "Two."

Sileas once again peered inside, and immediately wished he hadn't. Yorrick was foaming, hissing, struggling to get rid of the chains weighing down on his neck, his arms and his legs. Blood ran down his back and his chest where he had managed to claw at himself while trying to break free. His clothes, if they still could be called that, were a mass of fresh and dry blood, of black fluid and mud.

Sileas jerked his head away, fighting the urge to vomit. The stench that came from inside the room was making his stomach churn. He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps, and was relieved to see his father approaching. Without hesitation he ran into Boyd's open arms, crushing himself against the strong chest and relishing in the feeling of security the muscled arms that closed themselves around him created. "Dad…" he croaked.

"It's okay, I'm here," Boyd soothed, racking his hand through his son's short green hair.

"Where is Mom? You said she was cooking…"

"She's done now, do you want to see her?" Sileas nodded against his shoulder. "She's in the training room with the others, just go and give her a hug, 'kay?" Sileas nodded once again and wandered down the corridor after a friendly pat on the back. Boyd watched sadly as his now only child walked away with his head down low.

"We have to knock him out so I can sample some of this fluid," Rhys told Shinon, who readied his bow. "Go for the head, and be careful."

"I know, I never miss," the cocky sniped snorted. He slipped the head of the arrow in the crack across the door; he brought the arrow back, and was about to let it go when he saw what was going on inside: in an effort to break free, Yorrick had begun to chew on his wrist, ripping apart his flesh to be able to take off his chain. "For Ashera's sake…" Shinon shot the arrow without a second thought, and true to his word, it pierced cleanly through the skull of the creature. What used to be Yorrick gave a hiss and feel onto the side, unconscious.

Boyd heard a gasp and was surprised to realize it wasn't his own. He looked over his shoulder to see Sigrun standing here with her hand over her mouth to muffle her gasp. His wife had just witnessed the torture being inflected on her son – she had yet to understand that Yorrick was gone. "Sigrun, are you all right?" Boyd asked softly as he turned to her. She wobbled on her legs, and he caught her before she could loose her balance. "Sigrun!"

"Boyd, what are they doing to him?" she asked, shaking against his stronger frame. "What are they doing to our son?"

She was in denial; she couldn't admit that her son was dead, so she just acted as if he was always alive and well. The green-haired warrior tried to comfort her. "This is not Yorrick, honey," he whispered into her ear, turning around to prevent her from seeing the room. "This is not our son, they are not hurting him." Boyd glanced up to see Rhys had wandered into the room and had filled about three vials with the black liquid. Shinon had followed him and was pulling his arrow out of Yorrick's skull.

Already the creature was coming to. Rhys and Shinon quickly exited the room and slammed the door close once again. The sniped looked through the crack in the door with a worried expression. "We ought to burn him down," he said as Yorrick sat up, seething.

"He can't escape, we're not taking any risk," Rhys countered, carefully setting the vials in a small pouch.

"He was eating his wrist to break free, for fuck's sake!" Shinon hissed. "What if he gets out of here while we're all asleep?" The archer noticed the orange-haired man wasn't listening to him. "Rhys!"

"Amazing," the bishop said, staring inside the room. "Do they feel any pain at all?" He couldn't get his eyes off the sight of Yorrick trying to break his ankle to pieces to get rid of his chain. Blood was flying everywhere, coating the floor and the wall, but the creature didn't seem to care and just hit harder. "His own nerves aren't responding…"

"Nobody gives a _fuck_, Rhys!" Shinon bellowed. "We have to destroy that thing!"

"And how do you do that? An arrow to the head hardly knocks him out for more than one minute!" Rhys bit back, angered.

His voice reverberated into the corridor and was followed by silence, as Shinon lowered his eyes. Sigrun crushed her face into Boyd's shoulder; she was having a hard time realizing that they weren't talking about her son but the creature that he had become. Her husband was doing his best to calm her down, all the while trying not to fall apart himself.

"It was a bad idea, keeping him," Shinon muttered at least.

"It was very courageous of him," Rhys answered softly.

"But foolish of us! If he ever comes out of here, we're screwed!"

Rhys shook his head. "He won't get out. He can break his legs apart and chew his hands off, he won't be able to get rid of the chain around his neck." The bishop sighed over Yorrick's groans and moans. "Let's get some sleep… he won't get out."

Boyd nodded and wrapped one arm around Sigrun's waist. "Come on, let's go see Sileas, he was looking for you." She nodded weakly and he pulled her away and into the training room.

Immediately, Sileas spotted them and ran to hug his mother. The former Begnion soldier clutched her grown-up son against her chest as he looked up to his father. "Did they find a way to cure him?" the young one asked hopefully.

Boyd sighed. "I don't think so, we'd better not get our hopes up."

"… It's unfair! He was only sixteen!"

"So what? Fate isn't more understanding if you're sixteen than if you're older."

Sileas' face slowly fell apart. "It was… too early for him…"

Boyd opened his arms and hugged both his wife and his now only son against his chest and his broken heart. "It's always way too early, my boy," he whispered.

The three of them stood for a while, hugged against one another, and Boyd nestled his chin upon Sigrun's head, absently looking over at the room.

Almost everyone had gathered into the improvised sleeping quarters, and some of them, such as Gatrie, Astrid and Rolf, were already sleeping. Some others just couldn't sleep; Elincia was leaning against Ike's side, embracing her son Nephylio, while the blue general had one arm wrapped around Kylie's shoulders. People who had young kids, such as Haar and Jill, or Oscar and Tanith, watched over their treasures like hawks. Ilyana held her five year-old daughter in her arms as she waited for Soren to come back from his check-up on the food. Volke pretended he was asleep, and as soon as Nephenee and Ryo dozed off, he sat up and began keeping guard over them.

Geoffrey was standing all by himself by the window, every now and them glancing outside. He had decided against leaving the fort, but still couldn't bring himself to face his son yet.

"Come on, it's time to go to sleep," Haar whispered to Shiram, his seven year-old son. He kissed his mop of dark red hair when the boy nodded sleepily. "Sleep tight, little devil." He shifted so he could cover Shiram up and have his head in his lap; curious, how the usually sleepy dracoknight was unable to doze off these days.

"This tension… it's terrible," Jill muttered from her seat next to him.

Haar nodded in agreement. "I can't begin to describe it."

"Everyone, it's time to sleep," Rhys announced, not even needing to raise his voice. "Shinon's going to put the torches out, so get settled down." When mutters of agreement reached his ears, Rhys turned around to face Mia. "I'll check up on Mist and then I'll come back to rest a bit."

"How is she?" Mia asked, frowning.

The priest sighed and ran his hand through his orange hair. "Well, she should have given birth two weeks ago, so she could go into labor at any moment now. She's a bit scared."

"Who wouldn't be?" Mia stood on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek. "Don't forget to come and get some sleep, okay? I'll be with Onyx."

"Understood."

True to Rhys' words, Shinon began walking in the room with a water bucket, dumping the torches inside and effectively putting the flames out. As darkness began to settle in the room, everyone got to a cot or a mattress to lay down and get some shut-eye.

Calill laid out onto her side, leaving an empty space beside her for Arthur. Unfortunately for her, in the semi-darkness, Geoffrey searched for an empty spot and came across this available space. The general laid there, and his added weight shifted the mattress Calill rested upon the exact moment Shinon put out the last torch. "You're here?" the blond woman whispered as she turned around to face him. He was about to tell her something but she surprised him by stroking his hair fondly. "Good night, sweetie," she bid as she kissed his forehead before laying back down.

Geoffrey stayed speechless; the feeling of her warm lips on his battered skin had felt so right, so good, so similar to those days spent together years ago. For a few seconds, Geoffrey felt… alive, wonderfully alive. He basked in the afterglow of this simple insignificant peck on the forehead, but snapped out of it when Calill shivered violently. It was quite cold in the training room without the torches to bring some light and warmth, so the blond sage snuggled up to his shoulder to keep warm.

"Hey…" he whispered before he could help it.

Calill reached up and stroked his cheek. "Get some sleep, Arthur, many things await us tomorrow."

"No, I mean… I saw a mattress so I lied down, but…" His voice trailed off, unable to lie to her but at the same time craving for the warmth of her hand on his skin.

Said hand stilled instantly and slowly retracted as its owner hesitated. "Arthur?" she called out tentatively. She felt than rather saw him shake his head, and she scooted away instinctively. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's my fault, I wasn't aware… wait, if he's not here, where's Arthur?" Even against his better judgement, Geoffrey's paternal worries had kicked in.

Calill turned away to lie on her other side. "He's probably watching over the other kids. He told me he felt responsible because he's… the eldest, now, unfortunately." She was glad it was dark; that way Geoffrey couldn't see how red her cheeks were.

The blue-haired man nodded but realized that she couldn't see it. Feeling dumb, he fell silent and tried to sleep. In the meantime, he listened to Calill's breathing, which was way too rapid for someone who was supposed to be dozing off. Geoffrey figured out that he was the one keeping her awake; his proximity kept her on her guards. "I ought to leave you alone, I don't belong here," he whispered softly.

"Don't worry about me… besides, there probably isn't any room left, and if there is then you have next to no chance to find it in the dark," Calill said.

"I know I'm bothering you."

"What makes you think that?"

"… I can feel it, that's all," he shrugged.

"You are mistaken," the sage said firmly. "I already told you I don't blame you, so why would you bother me?"

"… Do you still love me?"

At this, Calill fell silent. Not wanting him to feel like he had won, and unable to lie, she decided not to answer. She heard him sigh, and felt the mattress move as he sat up. "I told you you could stay," she tried in a quiet voice.

"Your heart seems to think otherwise," Geoffrey said sadly.

"And who are you to decide what my heart wants or doesn't want? You are… you want to know something? Do whatever you want, I'm tired of arguing." Calill snuggled up to her pillow and closed her eyes, ignoring him. After all, he could sleep wherever the hell it pleased him, she wasn't about to beg him to stay.

Geoffrey stared at the outline of the woman lying beside him; he hadn't wanted to anger her, he just thought it might relieve her to know he was away. Still… call him a masochist, but it felt good to be snapped at by her; it showed she wouldn't ignore him. And… she was right, it was really dark, and he would step on someone before he found another sleeping spot. _I guess it's just as well, _Geoffrey thought as he lied back down beside Calill. She was less than one foot away, but she was painfully far from his reach.

On the other side of Geoffrey, a worried Tanith tugged on her husband's arm. "Oscar, are you sure Skyla is with the other children?" she asked quietly.

The horseman nodded. "Yes, but I'd prefer to have her here with us… I'll go fetch her," he said as he stood up.

Despite his squint, Oscar swiftly manoeuvred between the sleeping cots and reached a spot where the kids had gathered. "Skyla?" he called out softly, unable to localize his daughter.

A little head poked up. "Daddy?" the little girl called back.

"Yes, it's me," the man smiled kindly, crouching down. "Come here, Daddy wants to have you close." He waited until Skyla got around Arthur's sleeping mat and grabbed his hand before he picked her up and cradled her against his chest. "Let's go back to see Mommy." He kissed her forehead when she nodded and carefully began walking his way back, his sight adjusting to the darkness.

Oscar sat beside Tanith. "Here she is," he announced, not really knowing if he was talking to his wife or Skyla.

"Oh, my little girl," the Begnion soldier whispered as she hugged her daughter as well as Oscar's arm that was still around the smaller frame. Skyla cuddled up to her mother as her parents lied down with the little girl between them, shielding her with their bodies as much as with their love. Love was the only thing that kept them – and everyone – from going insane in there.

Suddenly, a roar came from the corridor, and Sileas brutally hugged his lying father; Yorrick was quite restless that night, and his older brother felt his heart twist whenever he heard a moan coming from that goddess-forsaken room.

Boyd unwrapped one of the arms he had around Sigrun to bring Sileas closer to his chest, comforting him as much as he could. "It's okay, I'm here, boy," he whispered into Sileas' ear, kissing his messy green hair. Sigrun reached up to stroke her now only son's cheek tenderly, feeling her own tears prickle her eyes.

"I… I can't take it… I want it to stop," Sileas choked, trying not to sob.

"If I could make it stop, I would, believe me, son," Boyd said, sighing and bringing the cover that had slipped to the ground back over Sileas.

"We're here, sweetie," Sigrun said with a smile she hoped wasn't as sad as she felt. "We won't let you down."

Sileas was about to argue that he wasn't worried about behind left behind; he just wanted his brother's suffering to stop. He couldn't admit that Yorrick was irremediably dead, and he felt as if he might just die himself if he had to listen to his brother's constant moaning anymore. But he just kept silent; he knew his parents were as upset as him, it was useless to argue with them.

No sound came from Yorrick's room again; the group was going to fall asleep when a new noise made itself known: something was scraping against the door down the corridor. Everybody froze.

Huddled up near Rolf and Sothe, Tormod took a shivering breath. "What was that?" the red-haired man asked, uneasy.

When nobody could answer, Arthur got up. Being the closest one to the corridor, he felt it was up to him to go check it out. "I'll take a look," he announced, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He wasn't particularly thrilled by the fact that he had to go past Yorrick's room to reach the door, or that he just might come across said creature on his way there. But still he puffed out his chest and stepped toward the corridor with a raging heart.

Calill sat up immediately. "Arthur, what do you think you are doing?" But she was too late, for her son had already exited the room. Worried beyond boundaries, Calill began to chew on her nails, striving to hear any sound that could tell her that Arthur was okay. Beside her, Geoffrey sat up as well; he didn't know why, he just felt it was the right thing to do.

Somewhere in the distance, a door opened and closed itself again.

"Dad…" Sileas said under his breath. "You heard that?"

Boyd nodded.

Then everybody tensed when a new sound reached their ears, and it wasn't a very reassuring noise; nail scraping against rock. It sounded like someone was running in the corridor, making small padding noises and sharp clinks. Sileas felt cold sweat run down his back when he imagined bare feet and a chain trailing behind the creature that he had sworn had been tied minutes before.

A loud panting noise brought everyone out of their shock. "Holy shit!" Shinon roared as he jumped to his feet, crushing Gatrie's hand in the process but ignoring the cry of pain.

"Goddess, Arthur…" Calill mouthed, trembling.

The noise seemed to get closer; the clinking sounds were frantic as the creature ran faster. Muttering curses to himself, Shinon tried to light the torches so they could see, although he knew there was no way he would light more than two before that thing waltzed in. Ike and Geoffrey got up and drew their weapons; even though his crossbow was outside, Boyd stood up, ready to fight with his very hands if he had to.

"It's getting closer!" Tormod freaked out.

"Oh, _thanks, _we hadn't noticed!" Rolf growled as he grabbed his two remaining arrows and readied his bow.

Before anyone had a chance to move, the noises reached the end of the corridor…

With a joyful bark, Zephyr jumped into the room, his claws making clinking noises against the floor as he panted happily. Geoffrey and Ike lowered their weapons and Boyd fell back onto his cot, the biggest relieved sigh of the century escaping him.

"Oh thank Ashera," Tormod almost cried as he hugged Sothe, who swiftly kept him at bay.

Arthur scratched the back of his head. "I'm sorry, it's just… the dog must have gotten cold outside, he was scratching at the door," he explained. "I let him in."

At this Ike stepped up. "He was outside?" he asked, frowning. When Arthur nodded, the commander kneeled and stroked the dog's head to keep him still. As Zephyr gladly licked his hand, Ike checked him over for bite marks or wounds, but the canine was clean. "Hum… I'm sorry we forgot you, Zephyr." He gave the dog's head a last caress and walked back to his cot. Zephyr followed him and lied down next to Kylie, who began petting him to get her mind off of everything that was going on.

"You scared us as hell, boy," Shinon sighed as he put the flames out once again.

"I had no idea, I'm sorry," Arthur apologized.

The sniper raised his hand, meaning he hadn't done any harm, and walked back to his sleeping spot. Arthur did the same, stopped however by his mother's voice on his way there. "Sweetie… could you be a little more careful?"

"I'm sorry Mom."

"It's all right, good night Arthur." Calill put her head back on her pillow as Geoffrey sat back down, wishing that dawn would hurry.

Right next to them, Oscar was trying to comfort his daughter. "It was just Zephyr, he wanted to come in," he whispered to her as she clutched his shirt, traumatized. "It's okay, sweetheart, nothing's going to happen."

"I don't want you and Mommy to go away," the little girl squeaked.

"It won't happen, Skyla, we'll always be there for you, don't cry," Oscar shushed. Tanith was stroking their daughter's back to ease her fears, trying at the same time to be convinced that her husband was telling the truth. Unfortunately, nobody knew what was going to happen; every promise was bound to be a lie, somehow.

Even though silence had returned, Mist couldn't sleep. She just lied on her back, looking up at the ceiling, worried about the next few days. She couldn't imagine a worst time to give birth, while they were fighting for their lives, but she wanted her child to live. Fear gnawed at her mind; sensing her fright, Sothe scooted closed and laid his hand on her very pregnant stomach, rubbing it in soft circles to ease her nerves. Mist turned her head to look at him, and he smiled before bringing his lips on hers for a gentle kiss. He didn't speak, but his acts said it all.

Feeling herself a bit calmed down, Mist nuzzled up to his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Her eyes unable to see, sobs coming from somewhere in the room, Geoffrey's warm breath down her back… Calill had never wished the sun would rise early with so much strength.


	5. Father to Son

_Okay, I promise I won't focus on Geoffrey and Arthur so much in the next chapter! I think I just pity Geoffrey. I'd like him to be happy but... _

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Warm sunlight was showing through the narrow windows, basking the sleeping room in a soothing yellow bath. Soft snores escaped those who were fast asleep, and the others were silent, on the verge of waking up.

Sitting and gently wagging his tail, Zephyr's protective eye watched over the room and its occupants.

Geoffrey gave a small yawn and slowly opened his eyes, coming to. His mouth felt dry, as if he had slept through the night with his jaw hanging open, and his arm felt numb. Sleepily, the general tried to bring his hand up to rub his eyes, but soon found himself unable to. The reason? Simple, really… He looked down to see Calill curled up against his chest, her cheek in the crook of his shoulder, and her weight resting upon his arm.

The bleu-haired man managed to stifle a gasp and his arm twitched; he held his breath in hopes that the slight movement wasn't going to wake her up. She frowned a bit, but otherwise stayed asleep, comfortably nestled against him.

Geoffrey was at loss; should he push her away? Should he hold her close? If he wanted to be honest with himself, he had to admit that he wanted to do both things at the same time. Her soft breath on his collarbone felt wonderful but at the same time made him wince, for he didn't deserve it. Although she had probably snuggled up to him in her sleep, he felt unworthy of her proximity. She didn't even want him close to begin with. So he did the only thing he could think of.

The former general sat up swiftly. He brought Calill along until gravity had a say in it and she fell back onto the sleeping cot, hitting her head on the mattress. Her eyes opened. "What's the matter…" she asked sleepily.

"Sorry… I'm not very gentle," Geoffrey apologized. "Go back to sleep."

His words fell on deaf ears; Calill was hardly even awake. "But what woke me up…"

"I did, when I sat up." The man stood up, looking down at the blond woman who hadn't heard his answer because she was already asleep. He chuckled to himself; it was a good thing she hadn't noticed how close she had been.

As quietly as possible, Geoffrey walked through the room and in the corridor, heading outside for some fresh air. As he walked by Yorrick's room, he didn't even glance inside and hurried up. If the monster was asleep – did those things even sleep? – then he sure as hell didn't want to wake it up. He made it to the door and opened it, letting sunshine in.

It was a nice, beautiful, warm summer day. The weather was mocking them. Geoffrey stayed in the doorway, taking in the peaceful-looking sight of the green trees, the clear grass and the cloudless sky. While they should take a walk and swim in the river, they were stuck inside, frightened to the bone.

Geoffrey jumped when Zephyr ran between his legs to go outside. "Hey, come back here!" he called before he thought. "It's not safe, come back!" The dog never listened to him and began munching happily on blades of grass. Geoffrey sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I guess it's okay since we're inside the fort," he muttered to himself, watching as the canine tried to bite his tail. Goddess, were dogs stupid.

The blue-haired man scanned the area, and his eyes fell onto a few dead birds on the ground some feet away. He winced in disgust when Zephyr went to sniff them. "Hey… you!" he said when he realized he didn't know the dog's name. "You shouldn't do that, come here." He was ignored again. "Hey!" Geoffrey did the first thing that came to his mind and whistled.

Zephyr's ears perked up and he turned his head toward Geoffrey, his tongue hanging out of his mouth happily. Now uncertain, the man bent a little and patted his knees, signalling that he wanted to dog to come over. To his surprise, Zephyr trotted until he was standing in front of him, and sat down expectantly, wagging his tail.

"… Yes?" Geoffrey said hesitantly.

Ike's dog barked cheerfully.

"I'm sorry, I don't get what you want."

"He wants to play," a voice said from behind him.

Geoffrey turned around to see Arthur come out of the building, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his eyes still numbed by sleep. The boy made his way over to the general. "You whistled, he thinks you'll play with him," Arthur repeated.

"Play?" the man blinked quizzically, before gently pushing the inquiring muzzle away from him. "Well, I… I'm not familiar with that… I can try…" He bent down and picked up a stick, looking back at Arthur for approval. "Like this?" When the young one nodded, Geoffrey threw the stick through the air, watching with amazement as Zephyr took off and leaped, swiftly catching the stick between his jaws and gracefully landing back onto the ground.

"Wow…" The former general scratched the back of his head as the dog trotted back toward him, his tail wagging happily. "It's like you spent your whole life doing this," Geoffrey told Zephyr.

The animal sat down in front of him, his head extended a bit, panting, as if handing the stick back to Geoffrey. The man crouched down and ran his hand through the silver fur, congratulating the dog. However, when his hand closed around the stick, Zephyr gave a growl and tugged it back. Geoffrey hesitated before pulling the stick toward him once again, but when the dog growled louder, he gave up, lifting his hands. "All right, it's yours," he caved in.

He didn't understand when Arthur laughed behind him, and turned to see him. "What's the matter?"

"He's just playing!" the boy said with a smile on his face. When Geoffrey sent a puzzled look his way, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Here, I'll show you."

The blue-haired teenager walked forward as Geoffrey stepped back, crossing his arms. Arthur grabbed the stick and just laughed when Zephyr growled low. He tugged the piece of wood to him, pushing the dog from side to side to excite him. "Give that back, furball," he warned playfully, ruffling the dog's ears. "It's my stick!"

When Arthur finally tugged the stick out of Zephyr's jaws, the animal began jumping around to catch it again, worrying Geoffrey. He almost interrupted the "game" when Zephyr pounced on Arthur and threw him onto the ground, fearing the dog was going to bite the young one, but he decided against it once he realized his son was laughing while trying to avoid being licked to death. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Those are strange games," he said.

"We don't fight for real, sir," Arthur smiled as he finally gave the stick back to Zephyr, whose ears he scratched fondly. He never saw Geoffrey wince at his use of the word "sir". "I used to play like this with my old dog."

"Playing… is not really my thing," Geoffrey muttered.

Arthur let the dog play and stood up, dusting himself off. "Oh, really? Not even with a brother or a sister?"

"Well, it was a long time ago… I used to play all day in Melior, but I was a child."

"That's too bad… well, at least you had siblings, I wish I had a little brother or a little sister." Arthur didn't notice when Geoffrey once again scratched his head, uncomfortable. "My best friend has got three little sisters, they are so cute I think I could eat them. I swear, if I hadn't wanted to be a sailor, I'd have opened an orphanage or something like that."

Geoffrey nodded. "That's noble of you." He picked up one stone and walked over to a long forgotten pond, twirling the stone between his fingers thoughtfully. He had to tell him. He wasn't sure they would get to be alone like this again. He had to tell him.

"What about you? You married?" Arthur asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"No," he answered, throwing the rock into the pond and watching the tiny waves.

"So… you don't have kids?"

Geoffrey's heart skipped a beat but he straightened himself. "I have one son. He's about your age," he blurted out before he thought, and immediately wished he could beat himself up to death for this. Why was he lying again? Why couldn't he just _grow _a spine?

Arthur smiled. "That's great."

"He doesn't know me." Geoffrey's heart began to beat faster and heat filled his brain. It was time to reveal the truth. He couldn't stay hidden forever. "He doesn't even know what I look like, let alone my name." The rock missed the pond.

Arthur blinked, puzzled. "But, I mean… do _you _know him?" At Geoffrey's nod, the young one frowned. "Then why don't you go to him! I couldn't stand the thought of being a stranger to my own son!"

"… It's complicated," the general sighed.

Arthur crossed his arms. "My Mom says that nothing is complicated: there's just what we want, and what we push away."

"And there's also what we are afraid to do," the blue-haired man muttered.

"That's just what keeps us from getting what we want."

The next rock just fell at Geoffrey's feet, abandoned. The general watched the greenish surface of the pond, expressionless, wondering how he was going to phrase his thoughts. "What would you say to your father if he came over one day?" he asked softly, carefully.

At first Arthur frowned; how did he know about his father? He shrugged it off. Geoffrey knew his mother, he had seen her talk to him, maybe he knew. "Well, for starters, I'd call him an idiot. He has to be a serious idiot if he left such a wonderful woman as my Mom behind." The teenager never noticed Geoffrey had nodded. "Then I'd ask him a thousand questions… I would want to know why he left, where he was, those kinds of things." The young man kicked the ground, sending a stone tumbling right into the old pond. "But in the end… I think I'd let my Mom decide… because after all, she knows him, whereas I don't, Bastian told me I was born seven months after they got separated, so I've never seen him even when I was a baby."

Arthur stopped talking when Geoffrey sat down onto the ground, his head in his hands. The boy kneeled beside him, worried. "Hey, are you all right, sir?" he inquired.

"I'm fine," the general lied. "And stop calling me _sir, _it's awkward, just call me Geoffrey."

Arthur rubbed his neck, clearly uneasy. "I wouldn't dare… I mean, Bastian told me you were a general, and everything, so it's disrespectful of me to-"

"I am not worthy of respect anymore. So please, stop calling me sir… and would you mind if we talked a bit?" the man asked, patting the grass beside him.

Arthur's face lit up. "Of course not!" he announced as he sat down on the ground.

Geoffrey picked up a leaf and began tearing it apart. "So… I've been told you like to sail… how did you come to like the sea?"

"Oh, it was a long time ago," the boy grinned. "You see, Mom and I live in Southern Fayre, fairly far from the coast, so when I was seven year-old Bastian took me on a ship in a port not far from Melior, as a birthday present. You know who Bastian is?" Geoffrey nodded. "He's a great man, he helped my Mom a lot. Hell, he's probably the reason I wouldn't immediately strangle my father if I saw him: Bastian knows him and he says he is a good man, and I know Bastian doesn't trust many people so…"

Arthur shook his head. "But this is not about my father, is it? So back to my story… That day, I climbed up to the crow nest with him, and boy was Mom scared!" He laughed at the memory when Geoffrey desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Bastian was holding me so tight I couldn't have fallen even if I had wanted to. It was magic! The smell of wood, the gushes of wind, undying freedom… from that day on, I swore I would sail, so I began my training two years ago now… I want to be a Crimean Captain, so I have to be the best."

"It's nice to know what you want," Geoffrey nodded.

"Yeah, it helps a lot… I don't want to imagine where I'd end up if I didn't know what I wanted."

"You'd end up like me." Arthur rolled his eyes, caressing Zephyr's fur. "After all, I never knew what I really wanted to do… I became a general because I knew it would please my father, but then… well…" Unable to find the words, Geoffrey just shrugged.

"Well… isn't there something you really want to do?"

"No, it's too late you know."

Arthur shook his head. "It's never too late."

"It's too late to fix my mistakes… I would give anything to come back seventeen years ago," the man muttered, but he didn't seem to be talking to the teenager anymore. He reached for another leaf, a small pile forming before him.

Arthur frowned, sensing something was off. "Mom says this all the time… especially when I point out that she should find a man to live with, and she refuses… I mean, I'm mad at my father, but it's mainly because he left Mom alone… If it was just me, I wouldn't care so much." As the boy kept on talking, Geoffrey stayed awfully quiet, and his hands stilled on the leaves. "I mean, I played with Largo and Bastian when he came over, but Mom was alone all the time… and I doubt it's ever going to change; if he hasn't come back by now, he never will." Arthur scratched Zephyr's neck, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes, and in order to do so he fell back onto the grass, stretching out.

Inside Geoffrey's mind, something shattered, and he knew the masquerade couldn't carry on. "Listen, Arthur, I don't feel well, and I'm probably going to mess this up," he said warily. "But I have something to tell you."

The boy sat up, watching him. "I'm all ears."

At first Geoffrey thought he could bear gazing into those soft blue pools as he told the truth to his son, but he found he was unable to. He got up and turned to face the pond, not looking at Arthur. "This son that I left behind… seventeen years ago…" He shifted his weigh from foot to foot, his throat constricting painfully as if trying to keep the words from flowing out. Inwardly, he wondered if he should stop now and pretend this never happened, but Arthur was eagerly waiting for his next words. He had no choice. "That son… it was you."

Geoffrey winced as he waited for the blow, but Arthur just shook his head. "That's impossible. Mom is a commoner, and you're a noble… I was surprised you even talked to her yesterday."

"Lucia… Bastian's wife… she is my sister." Although he was still unable to turn around, truth now seemed to flow out of Geoffrey's mouth. "I've known Queen Elincia ever since I was born… I've met her during the last war… Calill."

This shocked Arthur into silence. "… during the war?"

"Yes."

Heavy silence fell like a ton of bricks upon the fort in this early morning. Maybe sensing he had nothing to do here, Zephyr had disappeared. Geoffrey kept his eyes trained on the wall of the fortress, finding the old stones and deep cracks highly interesting. It wasn't long until he felt a fierce stare burn holes into his back, and he felt compelled to face his son. Still sitting on the ground, Arthur was glaring at him. "Now I get it… I did notice she acted quite strange those last few days…"

Geoffrey didn't know how to answer, so he just stayed quiet.

"Two weeks." The general looked up. "It took you two whole weeks to come out and tell me that?"

"I only learnt that you existed two weeks ago," Geoffrey said softly, looking away. "It's so strange… and I had so many questions… I thought too much and, in the end, I decided to stay silent."

"Well, too bad, because I've got a lot of questions." Arthur stood up, crossing his arms and glaring daggers that pierced through Geoffrey's heart easily. "Why? Why did you hide?"

"I didn't hide, I stayed where I was needed."

"Wrong."

"… True!"

"Wrong!" Arthur growled, and his sudden tone made his father look at him in the eyes. "We needed you, but you never came! Now I remember why I hate nobles! Everything down to love and family is fake!"

"I'll have you know that Bastian and Lucia are nobles too, so do not think I'm normal… and nothing, nothing was fake… absolutely nothing, except maybe the courage everyone thought I possessed. I had become a coward… I didn't know what I ought to do, if I should write to her, settle down with her, stay away from her… I was afraid, so I waited for days, then months, then years… It's quite pathetic."

"If nothing was fake, then why did you leave her?" Arthur asked, the same fire burning in his eyes. "You didn't like her anymore?"

"I loved her… I just had things that needed to be taken care of, I thought I could join her once I was finished… but I waited so much time I came to wonder if my feelings were real, and I began closing up on myself." Geoffrey brought his eyes back onto his son, who hadn't budged. "Day after day, all alone… I went insane… I never listened to those who wanted to help me."

"So you left behind the woman who loved you?"

"I wish I hadn't," he said, but it came more like an apology.

"Well, like I care." Arthur shook his head, unable to feel something other than anger at the moment. Geoffrey didn't answer, for he had long since learnt that anger fuelled anger and he wouldn't be able to talk calmly. "So basically, you took advantage of the war to sneak into her bed and knock her up?"

Geoffrey startled. "Of course not!"

"How can I believe you? You say you loved her, then why don't you go inside and tell her? You had two weeks, does this mean you don't even want to acknowledge her as the mother of your son?" The general never uttered a word; he just bent down and picked up another stone, irritating Arthur. "I see. I guess this conversation ends here. It's all right; after all, I have no reason to wish you would be more concerned about this, it's not like I was part of your family or anything."

Arthur turned heels and began his walk back inside. "See you around, _sir_."

At the exact moment the door slammed close after his passage, the rock Geoffrey had been holding fell to the ground as his vision clouded. Puzzled, he blinked and brought one hand to his face; he was deeply surprised to gather moisture in his eyes. Tears. He was crying for the first time in seventeen years. Before he could control himself, trails of water were running down his cheeks and onto his shirt, and he felt compelled to sit down as some kind of spasm shook his chest. Sobbing, he was sobbing. It felt so foreign to him, at first he thought he was sick, but his throat constricted and he whined down low, clutching his chest.

Trying to straighten himself, Geoffrey desperately wiped at his eyes to make the tears disappear, but it only seemed to bring out more. As his shoulders slumped in defeat and his arms fell to his sides, his elbow bumped into something soft, and he looked down to see Zephyr had come back. The dog was looking up at him with big canine eyes attentively, as if asking him what was wrong. The general almost turned away, but when Zephyr tilted his head to the side before nuzzling the inside of his elbow, he broke down once again. Falling to his knees and throwing his arms around the animal, he buried his face into the soft fur and sobbed anew. Peacefully, Zephyr let the human cry against him, his muzzle on one shaking shoulder as Geoffrey wept his eyes out.

When the man was done hugging the dog to death, he sniffled pitifully, staring at his wet hands as if they weren't his at all, as if he saw tears for the first time in his life.

Soft steps crushed the grass behind him. "I saw Arthur come in so I wondered…" The voice's owner trailed off as he neared Geoffrey. The sobbing man felt rather than saw the newcomer crouch down beside him, and the comforting weigh of another hand fell onto his shoulder. "You'll feel better once you've cried it out…"

Geoffrey gasped. "I'm sorry…"

"I'm not mad at you, you have no reason to be sorry."

The blue-haired man's voice broke again and he threw his arms around Bastian's neck, hiding his messy face into the other man's black tunic. The blond sage sighed as he hugged the broken man back, patting his back as he heaved sobs that had been bottled up for seventeen years. "There… hold nothing back… you'll feel much lighter…" he soothed his friend.

"I'm… I'm really… ugh…"

"Hush, take your time… we're in no rush…" Bastian leaned forward to get onto his knees so he could hug the other man better.

Geoffrey gave himself a few seconds and spoke up as soon as his sobs lessened. "I'm really the more disgusting man to have ever existed…" he spat angrily, panting.

"The simple fact that you admit your mistakes… makes you a good man," Bastian reassured him, helping him sit back. He waited until Geoffrey's sobs reduced to small sniffles before he pursued. "You had a lot of courage, talking to him alone as you did. You did well."

"I have no courage," the fallen general said through gritted teeth, tear tracks crisscrossing his face. "I am a coward… I am the most pathetic man the world ever carried… You were right, you have always been right about me!"

"Don't be stupid, I said things I don't mean because I was angry… You're not pathetic, Geoffrey, you just made wrong choices…" Bastian sighed and patted Geoffrey's knee in a friendly way. "I wish you would have realized it seventeen years ago, but… I guess late is better than never, isn't it?"

"I wish I was dead," Geoffrey whispered under his breath. "I wish someone would kill me."

Bastian was about to slap some sense into the other man and call him an idiot, but he took a good look at the broken-hearted human being that was crying in front of him. Despair, extreme sadness and suffering were carved onto Geoffrey's face as some sort of undying curse. The man had spent years wallowing in self-hatred, so much that he didn't even realize he could have a life, and to the point where he couldn't even stand to see his face in a mirror. His son had just rejected him; even though Geoffrey must have come prepared, the blow still hurt, and it only had made him hate himself more.

So Bastian softened. "Stop talking like this, you're scaring me," he told him. "Calm down… do you want to go for a little walk with me? You'll talk a bit." Rubbing his eyes like a pained child, Geoffrey gave a tiny nod, and Bastian smiled sadly. "Good."

Arthur walked straight ahead, almost colliding with Haar and Gatrie on the way. His vision was cloudy, but he refused to think it was because tears were beginning to prickle his eyes. Furiously, he plopped down on his sleeping cot and crossed his arms, never noticing Lucia was right next to him.

"What's wrong, Arthur?" the blue-haired woman asked gently, puzzled.

"Who cares after all?" the boy snapped, as if he had been talking to her for some time. "Who cares if he doesn't give a damn? We lived without him, no problem, we can go on and live without him! Two can play that game: he doesn't care? Fine! Neither do I!"

Lucia listened wordlessly, and she closed her eyes when she understood what had happened. She couldn't help but feel relieved that Arthur knew that he was her nephew; it allowed her to scoot closer and wrap her arms around him, cradling him against her chest as he kept on talking. "I'm a very good comedian, I can act as if he's just a nobody! Just look at me, I don't give a damn about him!" Silent tears ran down his cheeks. "I don't give a damn!"

Lucia caressed his hair softly. "Arthur… I know Geoffrey very well because he is, well, I've never told you…"

"I know," the teenager said, his voice breaking a little. "But it's all right… I don't care…" He brutally rubbed his eyes with the back on his hand. "Does it look like I care?"

"Yes, it does." Lucia gently pulled his hand away and wiped his tears with motherly tenderness. "You know… he is not indifferent, he is just… well, I've never seen him act this way… He reached a point where he can't even look into a mirror without burning in anger." She shifted Arthur so he could put his head in the crook of her shoulder. "I guess it must be hard to love someone else when you're not even able to accept who you are… when you hate life…"

Arthur huffed but instinctively snuggled closer. "He shouldn't have started."

"Maybe he shouldn't… but it's hard to live normally after that," she said as she squeezed his shoulder.

The blue-haired teenager was thoughtful for a moment. "Why… why can't I hate him?" he blurted out, frustrated. "I'm trying but… I can't!" Arthur leaned forward and buried his face into his knees.

"Geoffrey isn't easy to hate, even when he acts like this," Lucia said as she rubbed his back comfortingly. "Besides… he is your father… it's normal that you can't hate him."

"But I should," Arthur growled unhappily. "Not for me, but for Mom… I should despise him, and wish he was dead… but still… I don't want to harm him…"

Arthur finally broke down and Lucia pulled him closer, allowing him to release his sorrow against her chest as Geoffrey had done so many times before him, when her younger brother had needed comfort. She caressed the ocean blue hair which resembled her own so much lovingly, painfully remembering rocking Syaoran to sleep after a particularly bad nightmare. She held back her own tears; she had to stay strong if she wanted to comfort her nephew.

Just as Arthur's crying lessened, Rhys entered the room like a tornado, and everyone looked at him. His eyes were reflecting panic, sadness and shame. If anyone had even begun to wonder why the bishop was acting like this, the answer came quickly:

"Yorrick killed himself."


	6. Lost and Born

_Such a long time, what with work and everything. I'm back on tracks... I hope. I guess. At least until next chapter! WARNING! Sad chapter all the way... One day I'll cry on my keyboard. _

**CHAPTER FIVE**

"Yorrick killed himself."

At this, Sigrun froze, leaning against Boyd's side. The warrior was too shocked to even hug his wife, the news ringing through his ears.

"I… I really don't know how he managed to do it… it seems he tore his chest apart," Rhys said, his hands shaking as he racked his fingers through his damp orange hair. The bishop looked ready to faint, his cheeks were turning a sick shade of white.

Sileas rose from his seat on the floor and, after one last terrified look at Rhys, ran past the shaken priest and to the end of the corridor. Sigrun's first sob escaped her throat, and the moaning sound startled Boyd out of his trance. The broad-shouldered man took his wife in his arms, cradling her to his chest as he struggled to understand. "You… are sure?" he stammered.

"There's not doubt… he killed himself trying to get away," Rhys said, shaking his head and crushing whatever hope Boyd still had left.

"Wake up, halfwit!" Sileas' scream reached the dormitory, and Sigrun buried her head harder into Boyd's chest, crying freely for the loss of her youngest son while her husband did his best to soothe her, and failing miserably because of his own tears. "Come on! Get up! You're pathetic, sprawled like that! Move it, coward!"

The screaming lasted a few minutes, and before long, the only sound coming from the end of the corridor was heart-wrenching sobs. Sobs for a lost little brother.

"We… have another problem." Eyes once again turned to Rhys. "Ilyana, I'll need your help."

The frail thunder sage slowly rose from her sitting position, giving her sleeping daughter one last caress, waiting for fate to throw her life apart once again or, at the very last, for Rhys to explain why he needed her to help him. Maybe he sensed it as she approached him, because he spoke up. "We were examining Yorrick when… well, for short, Mist is in labor."

Ilyana's eyes widened and she figured out why the priest was so nervous. She also understood that there was no time to waste. "Let's get to it!" she said.

"I was just thinking I'd tell Sothe…"

"I'll do that part, don't worry," Tormod assured the nervous, sleep-deprived wreck that was the bishop at the moment.

After a grateful nod, Rhys slipped inside the corridor with Ilyana right behind him. Tormod heard her ask if there was some kind of problem with Mist, but he was unable to figure out Rhys' answer. The fire sage from the desert sighed and, after one last sad look at Boyd and Sigrun who were still in shock, gave them some air by walking to the other side of the room, waiting for Sothe to appear so he could tell him the – good? – news.

Arthur's head rose when he heard the front door open, but he looked back down when Bastian and Geoffrey walked into the room. Bastian carried a large bucket of water with one hand, and his other one was clamped upon the former general's shoulder. They seemed to be whispering things to each other and, although Arthur's curiosity reared up, he shrugged and assured his mind that he didn't need to know.

Bastian lowered the bucket near a pile of glasses on a makeshift low table, patting Geoffrey on the back. "Do you get it now?"

"I think I do," the blue-haired man muttered. His eyes were cast downward, but Bastian caught the glimpse of a smile on the other's face. Whether he imagined it or not was beyond his understanding. "I think it's going to get better but… I mean… I don't know if now is the right time… maybe I ought to wait a bit, he looked like he was going to-"

"What did I tell you? Do not try to find excuses," Bastian chastised him. "Just do what you feel like has to be done."

Geoffrey rubbed his arm, still looking down. "It's just… I feel so ashamed…" He sighed and pain was evident in his breath. "I want to talk to him. But it's not enough…"

"It's _something, _Geoffrey, and you need to do _something._" Bastian shook his head. "I cannot help you, you have to find by yourself what is the suitable thing to be done. If you don't… nothing is ever going to work out."

Bastian forced himself not to roll his eyes when Geoffrey sighed again. The fallen general took a look at his newly-discovered offspring; Arthur was sitting a few feet away, tying knots to a heavy-looking rope, probably practising. Geoffrey looked back at Bastian; after one last encouraging smile, the burdened man finally turned away and set off to where Arthur was sitting.

Geoffrey sat besides him, silent as a grave. He noticed the way Arthur stayed unmoving too, although he was clearly tense as ever, as if he never acknowledged his father was here. Geoffrey got the hint that if a conversation was to be started, it would be on his account.

"Look… I wanted to talk to you because I… I want to know you better, do you understand?" No response from the teenager. "I can't force you to do it, but well, I want you to know you can come to me if you need to talk or… if you need anything, in fact."

Some minutes of uncomfortable silence settled in, only broken by Arthur's voice as the teenager set down the rope. "I thought it didn't interest you."

"Now, don't make me say what I didn't… and don't think I don't care," Geoffrey added in a whisper, more to himself than to his son. Arthur idly caressed his rope, looking to be deep in thoughts. "I just wanted you to know."

"Thanks… but I'll trust my mother on that decision," the young one said.

"What decision?"

"Whether I'll get along with you or not… I can't judge you, I barely know you, but my mother can and if she chooses not to speak to you ever again, then don't think we'll ever be on speaking terms."

Geoffrey was unable to do anything but nod. There was no way Calill would allow him to be close to her. "I feel guilty about leaving your mother… please believe me."

Arthur sighed. "It's kind of irritating… but I believe you. But don't get your hopes up," he added when he saw a shadow of a smile stretch Geoffrey's features. "This doesn't mean I don't blame you for hurting my mother."

"I understand."

"Good."

Neither of them said another word, for they felt they didn't need to.

On the other side of the room, Tormod got up and whistled loudly upon spotting Sothe walking inside. "Hey, Sothe! Come over here!" he called.

A bit put off at the fire sage's flailing arms, the thief got near him. "What is going on?" he asked, his head tilted to the side.

"Come closer," Tormod whispered, leaning in as if to tell him a secret. Sothe shrugged and leaned his head closer; when the sage's lips were inches from his ear, the fire-haired magician shouted: "You're gonna be a daddy!"

"Ow! Mind the ears!" Sothe yelled, his hands shooting up to cradle his offended ears. "And don't you think I'd know it by now?"

"No, I mean, you're gonna be a daddy right _now_, mate."

Maybe it was because of his hands clamped over his ears, but it took Sothe a fistful of seconds to analyse and register what his friend just told him. When he did, however, his hands left the sides of his skull to grab Tormod's shoulders. "Where!"

"Sorry, mate, you can't go," the sage said with a sheepish smile. "Healer's orders."

"Like hell I can't!"

Sothe turned around and was about to take off running in search of his wife, but Tormod was faster. The sage hooked his foot around the thief's leg just as he was about to set off, resulting in the fall of said thief and his greeting kiss to the solid stone floor. "Bloody hell!" Sothe cried out as his hand came up to hold his bleeding nose. "You can't keep me away from her!"

Remorsefully, Tormod crouched down and patted his friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Sothe, but if you show yourself there this upset, then you'll upset her even more… just trust Rhys and Ilyana, all right?" he nudged gently, offering Sothe a handkerchief to wipe his nose.

The green-haired man took it with a growl. "I don't know what's going on, _that_'s what is upsetting me."

"Trust me… I have seen enough births at the colony to assure you that you don't want to know what's going on," Tormod winced. "Besides, you think you have to be there, but you'll only get horrible threats as thanks. I remember that time when…"

Sothe sighed and sat down with the handkerchief still pressed against his face, now sure that Tormod wouldn't let him leave. So he prepared for the long wait and the interesting tale of how Vika had sworn she was going to rip her crow mate apart while she gave birth to their son.

* * *

It finally happened minutes later. Hours. Or days. Whatever, Sothe had lost track of time.

Rhys stepped out of the corridor; he spotted Sothe when the thief sprung to life again, jumping to his feet. In a wave of white robes, the exhausted bishop was in front of Sothe.

_How is she? How is the baby? Do we have a boy? A baby girl? Can I see her? _There were so many questions shooting through Sothe's mind at the moment, the only thing he could do was stare at Rhys with his mouth half-opened, no sound coming from it. "S… So?" he stammered lamely.

If Rhys cared, he didn't show it. "We've got the first one. A bit frail, but with perfect health it seems."

"That's great!" Sothe blurted out, right when his mind clicked. "Wait… the "first one"?"

"Well, it looks like you and Mist are having twins," the healer smiled fondly.

It seemed Rhys talked after that, but to Sothe, it didn't matter. Twins. They were going to have two children. They had strived so hard all these years to obtain one child, but now, life had gifted them with two babies. The thief felt his heart melt and a stupid grin etched itself on his lips. He forgot for a moment their precarious situation, their fight for survival. For a moment, he felt good, happy. Alive.

"Man, I just knew Mist had gotten too big to carry just one kid!" Tormod laughed, slapping Sothe on the back and snapping him out of his daydream. "You dog!"

"It's… it's just so… so eerie," Sothe whispered. He raised his head to thank Rhys, but the bishop was gone. "Where is Rhys?"

"He left while you stood gawking at him, said he had to help welcome Sothe Jr. the Second in that forsaken world of ours," the fire sage grinned. But then he pouted. "Didn't say whether the first one was a boy or a girl, though."

"It's a boy."

Both men turned around to see Calill walking toward them. She was carrying a small bundle of soft blue cloth with caution, wearing a fond smile on her face. Sothe just stood frozen, knowing that whatever laid inside the blanket, he had helped in bringing it to life. With clumsy, skeleton-like movements, he moved over to Calill and instinctively held out his arms. The sage gently deposited her precious burden into his embrace, and Sothe marvelled at the warmth emanating from inside.

With a trembling hand, Sothe slightly pulled away the cloth to take a look at his son, and nearly fell over. He had never held something so small, so simple, and yet so… so perfect. The perfect little nose, the perfect miniature chin, the perfect soft-looking locks of dark green hair and, although they were currently closed, Sothe knew perfect eyes were hiding behind those eyelids.

"Hello there…" he whispered gently, rocking the tiny life form and cradling it to his chest. He didn't dare talk any louder, for fear that the peaceful atmosphere might be shattered.

Tormod peered over Sothe's shoulder. "You two have got the same shade of hair," he stated with a soft smile, enabling a nod from his friend.

Calill stroked one of the little hands with her thumb. "His little brother or sister is on the way," she told Sothe and the smile he sent her back couldn't have physically gotten any bigger than it was. She laughed softly when the baby's face scrunched up a little in his sleep and he shifted. "Would you look at that cute little face…"

From afar, Arthur stared at his mother, and smiled, trying hard to remember the last time he had seen her smile like this; and failing.

"You thought about a name yet?" Tormod asked. "Well, two names in fact."

"Well, I kind of like Nailah if we're having a girl, but a boy name… I don't know, I'll wait to see if Mist has got any idea," Sothe said softly, his eyes never leaving the bundle in his arms.

It wasn't long until Rhys appeared again, with a white cocoon held against his chest. He grinned when he caught Sothe's eager eyes and came to stand next to him. "Congratulations, Sothe, you're the father of those two identical twins," the bishop announced, uncovering the second baby's face to prove his point. This one wasn't asleep and looked around with big blue eyes, although never staring at something.

"They're… alike," Sothe whispered, and his baby chose this moment to look up at him, cooing. "Yes, it's daddy, my baby boy." The infant cooed again, more quietly. "I'm glad you like me, 'cause we're going to spend an awful lot of time together, you and I, with your brother and your mom."

Rhys, Tormod and Calill looked on fondly as Sothe greeted his sons into the world. He had earned a moment of happiness after all.

As the new father caressed his oldest son's soft cheek, he raised his head to speak to Rhys. "How is Mist holding up?" he asked, the shadow of a frown marring his features.

"Not very well, she's exhausted but that was to be expected," the priest sighed.

"She… she is going to be okay, though?"

"She will, if she gets proper rest and care. It is bad enough that her energy was drained by our fight here, it's just normal that she feels so weak," Rhys assured the worried husband.

Sothe nodded slowly, not that convinced. He needed to see her himself. "Can I see her?" he asked.

"Of course you can," Rhys smiled, handing over the second baby when Sothe held out his arm. He adjusted his tiny sons against his chest and set off in the corridor, trying his best to take measured steps for the sake of his children, but still maintaining a swift pace for the sake of his wife.

He chuckled when one baby whined. "I'm doing my best, cute face," he said softly, reaching a half-opened door and stopping to shift his sons' weight in his arms. "We'll go in and see mommy, I bet she'll be very happy to see you two." And with a big smile Sothe pushed his back against the door to open it all the way.

On a bed on the other side of the room, Mist lay down on her back, and positively looked as if she had been run over by a pack of Tigers. She was struggling to breathe normally, and she was sweating profusely even though Ilyana was dabbing at her face and neck with a cool cloth, congratulating her and smiling at her to make her feel better. There was a bundle of wet and bloody sheets in a corner of the room, which fortunately went unnoticed by Sothe who only had eyes for his love and hurried to her side.

Ilyana smiled at him and stepped back toward the door, giving them some time together. When she was sure neither of them would look at her, her smile faded and she rubbed her arm nervously.

"How bad is it?" Rhys' voice asked her from the doorframe, and surprisingly enough, she didn't jump.

"She lost a lot of blood, I really don't know," she whispered, her voice wavering. "I didn't manage to stop it altogether, it leads me to think her uterus might be torn… there was so much blood…"

"We can still try to operate," the priest suggested, his hand coming to rest on the frail sage's shoulder.

Ilyana shook her head. "We could… but she is so weak, I don't think she would survive… and we can't give her a proper operation, not here…"

Rhys scratched his chin, looking at the happy couple and their children bonding, deep in thoughts. "Let's wait… if her health plummets, we'll do anything that is in our power."

"Rhys… there is something else."

The bishop could have sworn Ilyana was going to break down sobbing from her tone of voice, but he forced himself to look professional. "What is it?"

"I put it on a tray, on the table." Rhys' eyes wandered to the far side of the room, and sure enough, a tray sat on a small table. On it, there was a vial of a dark liquid; he could only guess she had taken a blood sample, but whose was it? "It's Mist's…" she said as if reading into his thoughts. "From the looks of it… I'm afraid she had been infected by that black thing…"

Rhys stayed silent for a moment and growled, biting down on the hand that was scratching his chin to keep from swearing out loud. "It can't be…"

"That thing is in the air… maybe it seeped through her wounds and into her blood system," Ilyana muttered, eyes downcast. "After all, nothing was as sterilized as we would have liked it to be."

"Wait, let's think… I think the antidote I have been working on may be the right one, I just have to purify it." Rhys shook his head sadly. "She has no choice, she has to become our guinea pig, it's her only chance at survival."

"Rhys… the babies…" Ilyana sounded like she was going to break down at moment's notice. "They have the same blood as their mother's…"

"If she was infected in here, I don't think the babies had time to get infected too by her blood system," the priest mused.

"Maybe not, but it is still possible, especially for the younger one. We don't know how fast this virus thing works."

As the two healers discussed matters of sinister nature, the new parents gazed upon their children. While caressing her older son's forehead, Mist drew in a sharp breath and put a hand on her belly, which hadn't had quite the time to flatten out yet.

"You're sure you're all right?" Sothe asked her worriedly.

Mist nodded shakily. "I… I guess it's a normal thing."

The thief tenderly caressed her head, kissing her cheek. "Courage, sweetheart… I wish I could take the pain for you, but…" Sothe sighed; now he understood what Tormod meant, he really felt helpless and useless. The only thing he could do was distract her mind from the pain. "So, have you thought about names?"

Mist smiled weakly up at him. "I was thinking about Leo… but you told me you didn't like it last time."

"No, Leo is a good name, one fitting for a brave older brother," Sothe grinned. "I like it, really, what about you Leo?" He kissed the head of the older baby, who whined and made his father laugh. "As for the second one… I thought that Roxas was nice."

"Daein's former King," Mist nodded, a tired smile on her face.

"He was a great man, one as great as I think our son will be," Sothe grinned, holding said son against his chest. "Like it?"

"I love it, but not as much as I love you."

Sothe leaned in and softly pressed his lips on hers, lingering there a moment longer. "I love you, sweetheart." When he pulled away he noticed that her eyelids, although closed, were tense and she was frowning. "Mist… I'm not sure you're fine…"

"I feel tired and rather sore… but I guess it's just normal, there were two of them after all."

"You should get some rest, love, I mean it."

Mist nodded tiredly, and was about to doze off when she felt Leo being pried away from her and she opened her eyes; Rhys picked up Leo and handed him to Ilyana before taking Roxas into his arms. "What is the matter?"

"It won't be long, don't worry," the priest explained the surprised parents, shifting the baby in his arms. "We just have to take a blood sample, then they are all yours." He carried Roxas to the table where he lay him down on his back on a blanket. The baby moved his little members clumsily, and squeaked when Rhys gently pulled the needle of the syringe into his arm. "Shh shh, there, it's over," the bishop comforted the child when he was done, dabbing the small spot with a cloth before handing the baby back to his father.

Leo shifted in Ilyana's arms, his brother's whines clear to his ears and not very enticing. She rocked him. "It's all right Tek-… Leo… I'm here, nothing is going to happen to you," she whispered to him softly, tears beginning to form at the near mention of her son's name.

Rhys took another blood sample from Leo, and he placed the two vials of blood near Mist's on the tray where he could compare them.

"Is everything all right?" Sothe asked, rocking Leo to calm him.

"We'll see… we aren't sure."

Sothe did a double take. "_Sure_?"

Rhys ignored him and took the three vials, holding them in the sunlight where he could see through them.

"Wait a sec, tell me what is going on," the thief said, only to be ignored again. Figuring out something was boding ill for them, Mist began to shake nervously.

"Goddess… It is as we feared…" Rhys muttered, as if he couldn't bring himself to believe his eyes. Ilyana's breath caught and she did her best to keep from crying.

"Leo is clean…" Rhys stated.

"But Roxas… look, those black little crystals…"

"Less than Mist… but it is still here… oh Goddess…" Rhys bit his lower lip. "Our only chance is the antidote, now."

Sothe got up angrily. "What is going on? Tell me _now_!"

Rhys turned around. "Sothe, you can take Leo away with you."

The green-haired man blinked. "What…"

The bishop sighed, deciding that he had to tell the truth this time. "It seems that Mist has been infected by the same thing that killed Yorrick… and Roxas is infected too probably. We have to lock them up to stop it from spreading, and find a solution," he added before he lost his confidence.

Sothe was awfully silent, and so was Mist. Both were too shocked to say anything.

"We have an antidote… if it works, it will be enough to cure Roxas, but Mist's infection is worse and… I don't know if it'll work," Rhys admitted sadly. Ilyana couldn't even bear to look at the other two at the moment.

Sothe was snapped out of his trance when Rhys took Roxas away from him. "How… this can't be possible!" he cried out.

"The room was not as sterile as we thought it was," the orange-haired bishop said.

"As you _thought _it was?" Sothe repeated angrily. Leo whined.

"The virus must be in the air, and it might be able to seep inside bodies if skin is torn, and Mist lost a lot of blood, it's possible that-"

"So I'm going to lose my wife and one of my children just because… you _thought _wrong?" Sothe seethed, definitively furious at the two magic-users.

"I know next to nothing about this virus, how was I supposed to know?" Rhys countered, but he knew Sothe wasn't in his right mind. "You're blaming it on the wrong people."

Sothe growled loudly. "It's your fault that Mist and Roxas are going to die!" he roared, and the twins began to cry.

Ilyana looked down and a few tears escaped her eyes, but Rhys frowned. "So you think we did it on purpose, is that what you are saying Sothe?" he said through gritted teeth.

"You could have been careful! You… you don't know how it feels! You can't feel the way I do right now! Mist…and my son! They are going to… to…"

"My son died as well, remember?" Ilyana managed to say without any sob escaping the gate of her throat. "Do not think I don't know how it feels!"

"At least Tekar was given a chance at life!"

"Quiet!" Rhys shouted, and every sound in the room was reduced to Roxas and Leo weeping and Mist crying. Panting, Sothe looked like he was going to hug her, but Rhys pressed Leo into his arms. "Sothe, you take Leo and get away."

"I don't want to."

"I didn't ask, I ordered you to get up and take your son the hell away from here."

Sothe growled but nonetheless, he exited the room with his still crying son in tow. Feeling horrible, Ilyana wiped her eyes and squeezed Mist's hand. "I'm so sorry Mist, I wish I had paid greater attention," she apologized through her tears.

"Nothing is your fault, Ilyana," the young woman sniffled. "I know you didn't mean for it to happen, it just did."

As Rhys put Roxas down on the table to wrap a blanket around him, he couldn't help but think that, although he hadn't wanted Mist and Roxas to get infected, Sothe should have beaten him up for putting his wife and child in danger.

For a Healer who only managed to render people ill was no use to anyone, and he couldn't afford to be useless at a time like this.


	7. Reaching Out

_Once again, Geoffrey in spotlight... I promise I'll try to focus on the others! _

**CHAPTER SIX**

"Well, if it isn't our new Daddy!" Tormod grinned when Sothe approached.

"Just shup up, Tormod," the thief hissed furiously, cradling a whining Leo to his chest.

The fire sage blinked. "What did I say this time?"

"Just leave me alone." Sothe walked away with his son, leaving Tormod standing here dumbstruck. "I don't think I can stand your stupidity right now." Never did the green-haired man utter another word at the fire sage that day; he just walked over to the wall and slid down the cold, harsh stone until he was sitting on the ground.

Leo shifted uneasily, making small pitiful sounds, and Sothe caressed his cheek. "Everything is fine, son, calm down…" But the baby just moved away from the touch, irritated. "You can sense your brother's pain, right? I'm sorry…" Sothe leaned in and kissed Leo's forehead softly.

He did not get the reaction he would have expected, for the baby finally started crying quietly. Sothe's eyes widened to match the size of saucers. "No, no, no, sweetie, everything is okay, don't cry," he pleaded gently as he held Leo against his chest and rocked him in an effort to comfort him.

Upon noticing that it wasn't doing any good and that Leo kept on crying, Sothe felt despair seep into his heart. What had he done wrong? Did he hold him too strongly? He wasn't ready to be a father, let alone a lone father. He couldn't pull through it without Mist helping him.

"Is everything all right?" Sothe raised his head to see Calill crouching in front of him. He hadn't even heard her get here.

"I don't know," he said a calmly as he could, although fear was evident in his tone of voice. "I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing."

Calill brushed a stray lock of blond hair from her face and took a closer look at the baby. "Has he eaten?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so, but… I have nothing to feed him." Sothe hung his head low. "I'm the worst father ever."

"Now, don't talk that way," Calill hushed him as she held out her arms to pick up Leo. "You're just worrying over Mist and your other son, you have to calm down. Have some time alone to think while I go and see what I can do for this little one here, all right?"

At first Sothe hesitated, but he finally gave his son to Calill. "Leo. His name is Leo," he muttered.

"It's a strong name," the woman commented as she held the baby to her chest tenderly. "I'm taking care of him, don't worry, I'll give him back," she added with a small smile to reassure Sothe, who nodded his thanks.

Geoffrey witnessed the scene from a few feet. His head was resting against the wall, and his sight never left Calill as she cradled the newborn baby. Is that what she looked when she first held Arthur in her arms? Did she really wear that radiant smile, was she really that careful as she handled the tiny life? He would never know… but dear Goddesses, did he ache to know. He would give anything – not that he had much left – to know what it felt like to hold a newborn baby, and know that it was his. But he had denied himself that privilege.

His temple left the cold surface of the wall when Calill moved away and out of the room. Arthur did seem to notice this too, for the boy got up and followed his mother. Without waiting for his mind to think over it, Geoffrey stood up and walked to the corridor himself; only when he went past the doorframe did he wonder what it was that he was doing. He had no right to wander off with his wife and son for the moment, weird as it might be, but he felt he had to be there for some reason. Geoffrey shrugged; he could always pass it off as his afternoon walk.

He fell in step a few feet behind Calill and Arthur, who were too busy smiling over the baby to notice. They then ducked into a room Geoffrey remembered as the former mercenary mess hall, which had since then been transformed into a room where they kept all kinds of things, ranging from food to blankets or dishes.

"Do you want some help, Mom?" Geoffrey heard Arthur say as he came to stand outside the room.

"It would be lovely, sweetheart," Calill answered, and the smile was evident in her voice. "Could you try to find something close to a bottle? I know I've seen some milk somewhere in here…" She opened a few cupboards before picking up a white container with the hand that wasn't holding Leo. "Here it is…"

Arthur came up to her with what looked like a short-necked bottle. "I haven't found anything better."

"This will do, darling, could you please fill it with a third of milk and two thirds of water? I'll put a cauldron of water over the fire," she instructed as she looked at the burning hearth that was behind them.

The teenager did as he was told with a grin on his face. "You sound like a professional," he commented.

"Remember I used to do this for you, and not so long ago."

These words split Geoffrey's ears and he winced. He could not help but wonder what it would have been like to prepare a bottle of milk with care, while Calill waited with their baby son in her arms. Maybe she would have been sitting on their bed, and he could have sat next to her and watched as she fed Arthur. Maybe he would sometimes feed the baby himself, with Calill's arms around his waist and her head on his shoulder, looking down at the baby with a fond smile.

Geoffrey's heart was screaming, and he had to close his eyes and lean against the wall to push the vision of Calill feeding Arthur all by herself away. It took all his willpower to glance inside the storage room again. The bottle had been stoppered and plunged into the cauldron of water to heat up, and Arthur was getting up from his crouching position in front of the fire.

"Do you think Sothe has one?" Calill asked, and Geoffrey had no idea what she was talking about.

"I'd be surprised if he or Mist didn't, they were going to have a baby after all," Arthur shrugged. "I'll go and get it." The teenager sailor walked out and brushed past Geoffrey, hardly acknowledging he was here at all, heading for the training room.

The former general sighed quietly and looked inside the room. Calill was rocking Leo, whispering a lullaby with a gentle smile. Geoffrey felt his heart skip a beat; she was really beautiful, even more so than when they were together, if that was possible. The more time he spent within hearing range of her, the more he wanted to beat himself up for leaving her. Calill was a loving mother, while he was… he wasn't even sure what he was himself, but he certainly wasn't a father.

Calill had begun to talk softly to the baby and Geoffrey found his own ears perking up, not wanting to miss one word although he knew it only hurt him more.

"Your little brother is going to be fine, and so is your mother," she whispered, and the baby listened to her with his little hand clutching a lock of her golden hair. "She fought hard to give birth to the two of you… while it is true that life is unfair, I think it'd just be cruel." Leo whined, and she kissed his forehead, pacing across the room to calm him down.

Geoffrey's blue eyes never left Calill's moving figure. True… life was unfair.

"I think it's the right temperature now, sweetie," the fire sage said as she reached for the bottle. Geoffrey eyes the steam coming from the water and realized that she was going to get burnt if she picked it up with her bare hand. While he would have preferred to stay out of sight, he didn't want her to get hurt.

"Wait," he said as he approached, startling Calill enough to make her forget about the bottle and draw her hand back.

She looked like she was about to ask him if he was spying on her, but she changed her mind. "It's all right, I'm used to it," she said, extending her hand once again, only to have it grabbed and held back.

"Used to it or not, that's the best way to get the nastiest burn of the century," Geoffrey said softly as he reached inside his pocket for a piece of cloth, which he wrapped around the bottle and picked up. "There are a lot of nerves inside your fingers, so if you get hurt-"

"One gets hurt at first, but then it doesn't even burn," Calill said.

"I don't believe you," Geoffrey claimed as he set the bottle on the table and blew on his heated fingers. "I may not have been a father at all, but I know that hot things… well, burn." He took the cloth off the bottle and left it to cool down, turning to Calill. "Let me help you."

She seemed to think about it, and then sighed. "As you wish," she caved in, adjusting Leo against her chest. "We just have to wait for it to be cool enough, anyway."

"Understood." Geoffrey blew on his fingers again.

The gesture made Calill roll her eyes. "For Ashera's sake, just stop doing that."

His head tilted to the side. "Stop doing what? It's hot, I swear."

"You're such a cry-baby, sometimes."

Geoffrey's heart jumped in his chest; he wasn't pleased by the comment, but that wasn't what mattered the most. She was talking to him… and she was not doing so because she had to. He wasn't about to let it down. "That's not true… but as you said, maybe it's because I'm not used to it."

"It could be."

"And that's a real pity," Geoffrey sighed.

Leo chose this moment to remind them that he was in the room as well, and did so by whining and shivering. "You're cold, darling?" Calill whispered, taking off her cloak and wrapping it in addition to the blanket covering Leo. She kissed his cheek as the newborn boy stopped making a fuss and snuggled into the cloth.

"He's so tiny," Geoffrey said as a way to re-establish conversation.

"Twins are usually smaller than other babies," Calill nodded, gazing at the infant. "But they are not that tiny. Although I remember Arthur wasn't what could be called _frail_," she added, a nostalgic smile stretching her delicate features.

Geoffrey's ears perked up at the mention of his son and he hoped the interest he felt didn't sound desperate as he spoke up. "Oh… I take it he was a handful?"

"Not that much, he was a skilled whiner. He only cried when he was scared or hurt." She shook her head. "Every two hours he was hungry, I was afraid that one day he would burst because I gave him too much food."

"A foodie, then," Geoffrey said with a smile that he hoped didn't look fake. "I have been told that when I was a baby, I used to cry so loudly that Lucia was sometimes unable to sleep, and I didn't eat much." He gazed down at Leo, who was looking around. "It's frightening, how different we are."

"He could cry if he wanted to… he was afraid of storms."

Geoffrey was silent for a few seconds. "I guess we are not that different."

Calill chuckled a little. "He was sure the sky was going to be torn to pieces."

"And I thought the castle was going to be burnt to a crisp by lighting," he nodded.

"He was hugging Domino so hard, I thought that one day the poor beast wasn't going to make it through the storm," Calill said, smiling at the memory.

Geoffrey tilted his head to the side quizzically. "Is that the dog he told me about?"

"Yes, a small dog we found one day… he died two years ago." The woman interrupted her story to whisper soothing words to Leo, who had begun to move around again. "Arthur loved him… but then again, Arthur loves any kind of life that comes to him. Except rats, he can't stand rats."

Geoffrey didn't want to pry, but he felt curious. "Why that?"

"Arthur loathes rats since the day Bastian teased him saying that if those animals were to climb into his bed, they could snack on his toes and eat them off his feet." Calill shook her head, amused. "From then on, Arthur has checked his bed and his room before going to bed, even though Bastian told him he was just teasing him."

"Thanks, Bastian," the general muttered, annoyed.

"He was so cute at the time, with his big blue eyes, his untameable hair, his bright smile…" Calill held Leo closer. "He was my little baby boy… he has gotten so big, he doesn't need me anymore. And soon he'll be gone, off to live a life on his own." She tried to distract her mind by rocking Leo, but she soon felt tears prickling at her eyes. She managed to hold them back.

Geoffrey wanted to hug her close and tell her that it was all right, that she had him and she wouldn't be alone, but she didn't need that right now. So he tamed his instincts and gently put his hand on her shoulder, and she let him. "I guess that age doesn't matter, he's still your son and always will be."

"And I guess that whatever happened, he's your son as well," Calill whispered.

"It's not the same. You are his mother but he doesn't see me as his father." He squeezed her shoulder before letting it go. "I don't know how it feels."

Calill seemed to hesitate for a moment, and when she opened her mouth to speak Arthur came bounding into the room. "Found it!" he announced triumphally, holding out a piece of rubber shaped in the form of a pacifier. "And you'll be surprised to know who I got it from."

"Who had it?" Calill asked to humor her son.

"Our mighty and skilled bloodthirsty assassin Volke. Do not ask."

Calill chuckled as Arthur carefully put the piece of rubber atop the bottle, testing it for leaks. She noticed that Geoffrey had stepped back and shut himself off a little. She couldn't help but think that it had something to do with Arthur being in the room.

"Here you go," her son said as he handed her the warm bottle.

"Thank you, sweetie," she smiled as she took the bottle. "Why don't you go and rest a little, you look tired."

Arthur nodded, scratching the back of his head. "I guess I'll go take a nap, you sure you don't need my help?"

"I'll manage, don't you worry."

The teenager nodded and walked out of the room, stretching his arms over his head. As soon as he was out, Geoffrey turned to Calill and his shoulders relaxed. He hadn't expected Arthur to act as if he didn't exist at all, but he guessed he deserved it.

It didn't take long for Leo to figure out how to eat, and before long he was fiercely sucking on the rubber end of the bottle. "Well, you're a quick learner," Calill smiled as she fed the baby. She looked up to see Geoffrey staring at her. "Why are you here? I mean… I don't really want you to go away, but _why _do you stay here?"

The blue-haired man sighed. "Well… if I were any more idiot, I'd say that I have no choice given what I did to you… but actually, I want to be here. I really want to make up for those mistakes I made, even though I know it will be hard."

Calill didn't answer for a few minutes, her eyes remaining trained on the feasting baby. When she did speak up, however, it was in a sad tone of voice. "I can't decide whether this is true, or if I'll end up feeling the same as seventeen years ago."

"This is true, please, you have to believe me." Not good. Now he really sounded desperate, and that was the last thing Calill needed.

Not another word was said in the cold storage room until Calill pulled the bottle away from Leo. "That's all, sweetie," she said smiling as she put the bottle down. "Daddy is going to be happy to know you ate so well." Leo cooed.

"Of course, you don't have to believe me, I would understand," Geoffrey said, still intend on getting an answer. His voice died down however when Calill stood up and walked toward the door, grabbing his sleeve on the way. "What's going on?" he asked, surprised.

"I'm going to need some help, and you're standing right here," she said as a way to explain why she was dragging him out of the room. "Leo is shivering; he needs a warm bath before I return him to his father." Fortunately, there was a bathroom right next to the storage room, which is what gave Calill the idea in the first place. There was no way Geoffrey could get lost on the way, but still, she never let go of his sleeve.

"You want me to get water?" he asked when they got in the small room.

"No, there's already some in the tub, if you could just light the fire under it to heat it up, it would be lovely," Calill asked as she put Leo down on a table next to the sink.

Eager to be helpful, Geoffrey strode back to the storage room and put a torch into the purring flames. When he was sure it had caught on fire, he came back to the bathroom and proceeded to start a fire under the bathing tub with the burning torch. When he had a good fire going, he rose dusting off his hands and walked up to Calill. She was ridding Leo of the many layers of cloth covering him.

"I'll put it out once the water is warm enough," he told her, looking down at the squirming baby and Calill's skilful hands. "This way you won't… what is this?" he asked suddenly, pointing at her forearm.

The fire sage reacted quickly and rolled her sleeve down, but not before Geoffrey had time to take a good look at the angry scar running from the inside of her elbow to mid-forearm. "It's nothing," she answered way too quickly for him to believe her.

"This doesn't look like nothing at all," he countered.

"I tripped, I fell, I hit my arm," Calill said, rubbing her arm. "Nothing more to it."

"This is not an accidental wound," Geoffrey said softly, not wanting to scare her. "But if you don't trust me enough to tell me, it's fine, I understand." In truth, Geoffrey really wanted to know, but he swore that he wasn't going to pry.

And he wouldn't have needed to, anyway, for she sighed and gave in. "A year ago, give or take a month, Largo went to Teltea with his wife Rinny, for their tenth anniversary, for a week. Arthur had gone to train in Melior, so I was left to care after the inn for the week. One night, I had a… problem, with a man who had had a little too much to drink. He managed to do this," she rolled up her sleeve again, revealing the red scar, "with his knife before I could reach the Inferno tome I had left on the counter."

Geoffrey stayed awfully silent, but rage was tearing at his insides. Rage directed at this man, for trying to harm the woman he loved, but also at himself, for being enough of an idiot to think running an inn alone wasn't risky. He ought to have guessed something like this could happen to her! He should have been there, giving the drunken man a healthy punch across the face and kicking him out of the inn! Instead, he had been alone, holed up in his castle when he could have had a life.

"I fought in the war, one man doesn't scare me," Calill added to calm him down when she saw the expression on his face.

Thankfully, he nodded, containing his anger. He dipped his hand in the tub and deemed that the water was warm enough to be comfortable, so he put out the fire. Meanwhile, Calill picked up the naked baby boy and neared the tub. She tried to hold him in the water while crouching down, but the tub was too high so she tried to hold him while she bending forward, but her back screamed that it wouldn't resist more than one minute. "It's too deep," she thought out loud as she tried to fit her elbow on the edge of the tub, to no avail.

"Do you want some help?" Geoffrey offered.

"It'll never work that way." Calill shook her head and held out Leo. "Could you hold him for me a few minutes?" Geoffrey carefully took the infant from the sage's hands and held him pressed to his chest, not caring if he was wetting his shirt. "I think I'm going in the tub with him," Calill said.

Geoffrey began to nod, but then did a double take. "You're going to what?" he stammered.

"I'm going in with him," she repeated as she took off her shoes and undid the lavender-colored belt around her waist. "I don't want him to slip to the bottom of the tub."

"Maybe we could empty it a little then," the former general suggested, nervous.

"I don't think it would help much, and don't be so shy. You won't make me believe you were a good boy for seventeen years." Geoffrey opened his mouth to reply but when Calill undid the fastenings of her dress to take it off, he swiftly turned away, his cheeks turning red. He was so embarrassed he almost forgot that he had something to retort.

"What… what if I were?" he asked as calmly as possible.

"That would be surprising." He heard the soft noise of water being moved around, and deduced that Calill had gotten inside the tub. "Come on princess, hand over the baby."

Geoffrey turned around and gave Leo to Calill, who was leaning against the side of the tub. The fire sage settled the baby against her chest, rolling her eyes at the man whom she had once loved. "Goddess, Geoffrey, if you're that embarrassed you can go out, but stop making a show of looking away and acting freaked out."

"I'm not making a show," the former general replied as he turned and walked to the door. Calill thought he was getting out but he merely closed the door to insure her a little privacy. "You women sure know nothing about what it's like to be a man."

"And what is that supposed to mean, Mr Man?" she asked as she rubbed some soap into Leo's back.

"What do you think it means?" he sent back, his eyes trained on the doorknob.

"No idea, would you care to explain?" Calill asked as she made sure Leo's face was clean without any water slipping into his nose or his ears.

"Never mind." Geoffrey massaged his temple, feeling the skin under his fingers to be as hot as the bottle of milk from before. He could only guess how red his face had gotten; all the more reason not to look at Calill.

"You look like a teenager," she commented, and earned a grunt from the man. "Do I need to remind you that this is nothing you have never seen? Nevertheless, if you really don't want to see, you can go out."

"It's not that I don't _want _to see!" Geoffrey blurted out, and his cheeks reddened more than humanly possible. "It's just that I shouldn't see… I don't deserve to… please just forget that conversation."

The rest of Leo's bath went silently, with the occasional squeak from the baby. Geoffrey spent it wondering how Calill could even _think _he didn't want to look at her. He wanted to stare at her body all day and all night long, wanted to take in every curve, every change her body had known since they had parted. But he couldn't… he had broken her trust and he deserved to be unable to see her.

"Could you hand me that towel?" Calill asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Geoffrey nodded and neared the tub with the white towel he had grabbed off a rack, opening it and adverting his eyes slightly. The fire sage stepped out of the bathing tub, holding Leo in the crook of her shoulder, and in the towel which Geoffrey wrapped around them.

"Thank you," she said as she began to dry Leo.

"I don't even know what I'm still doing here," the former general stated as he watched her.

"You're the only one who is embarrassed, I don't think you are a bother." Once Leo was dry, she set him down on the table and wrapped him in a blanket. "We are going to have to find you some suitable clothes, baby," she smiled as the newborn cooed.

Geoffrey swiftly turned away when she made for her own clothes, and when he peeked to see if she was done dressing, he caught a glimpse of the soft skin of her shoulder blade as she tied her dress into place. As the woman he loved reached up to tie her hair, he rubbed his arm and cast his eyes to the ground. "You're still as beautiful as ever," he mumbled.

"Tsssk, you evil flatterer," Calill chuckled, but her cheeks turned a light shade of red.

"_Evil_? I'm telling the truth," he shrugged.

"Well, you sure have lost none of your charms."

"Oh," Geoffrey said racking a hand through his blue hair. "I'm not that sure."

"Believe me… this is why I'm surprised you didn't catch the eye of a lot of young women, it's very strange," the blond sage shrugged as she picked up a giggling Leo.

The lance paladin shook his head. Sure, many women had approached him those last few years. "It can't work if it's only one-sided."

"Seventeen years is a long time, and you had no reason not to indulge," she said, trying to sound casual and not immensely jealous as she felt. "At least, you knew you were still attractive."

"So did you, from what I understand," he said, looking at her forearm.

"This is not the same thing. I'm not talking about drunks, they got what they deserved. For seventeen years, no – sober – man approached me and wasn't Bastian, Arthur or Largo. And it got me to wonder if that was why you left," she trailed off. "If you left because you thought I wasn't attractive enough."

"Never!" Geoffrey exclaimed. "Listen, it had nothing to do with that! I just-"

"I already told you: you don't have to justify yourself," Calill cut in. "Now, I'm going to return Leo to his father; do whatever you want to do, and thanks for the help."

The fire sage walked out of the bathroom, and Geoffrey's fingers brushed along her cloak as she passed by him. Just as he thought he was getting closer, she jumped out of reach again. But he couldn't blame her, really.

She had every right to slap his hand away whenever he reached for her.

Just as Geoffrey decided he might as well take a bath before the water cooled down too much, the powerful sound of a foghorn echoed through the entire building, waking those who had started to sleep, and startling those who were well-awake.

Years of military training helped Geoffrey recognize the signal. A distress call.


	8. Arrival

**Long time no see! GeoffreyxCalill haters, turn back now! **

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Ike's hands flew up to the sides of his head as the foghorn kept on ringing. The commander looked around in hopes that someone might know what the rampage was all about, but all he saw were faces as clueless as his own. Soren was wincing, his hands clamped over his daughter's ears, and Jill was trying to soothe a struggling Shiram with Haar's help.

"What the hell is going on?" Arthur asked, or rather yelled, as he neared Ike.

"I'm not sure, but it's coming from outside and it can't be good!" the mercenary shouted back to be heard over the booming noise.

"I'll go take a look!"

Arthur grabbed a short sword he had left propped against the wall and ran to the corridor before Ike could react, which happened seconds later. "Wait! Arthur come back here right now! That's an order!"

His yell went unnoticed by the running youth who raced down the corridor, throwing the front door open and waltzing outside. By the time Arthur had taken a few steps out into the late afternoon air, the foghorn had stopped, and he was unable to locate it. However it soon became clear who had made the call when Oscar and Boyd came running down the eastern tower, a foghorn clutched into the Reaver's calloused hand.

"What's wrong?" Arthur blurted out, panting.

Boyd looked up to the sky and seemed to be searching for something. "There," he said, pointing to something Arthur didn't see at first, but then identified as black flying dots. "I think those things are heading this way." Oscar nodded to show he agreed with his younger brother, his brow furrowed worryingly.

Arthur looked up when Ike came running out of the fort, Ragnell at the ready. He didn't seem to go anywhere without his trusted sword anymore. "Arthur, go back inside this instant," he said slowly.

"I'd rather stay out there," the teenager answered.

"I said _inside_! That's an order!" Ike barked.

"I'm not one of your mercenaries! You can't order me around!"

The commander tried to breathe in calmly but only managed to get himself angrier. "Just cut out the crap and obey, kid, while I still have a hold of myself," he growled, frustrated at this boy who didn't seem to realize there was danger lurking everywhere these days.

A shrill coming from up high cut into the conversation, and all four men looked up to see the black things were slowly getting closer, and they could be seen more easily too.

"We all ought to go back inside," Oscar mumbled.

"They've got wings, and they're pitch black," Boyd commented, unable to look away.

"They must be other beasts, infected wyverns perhaps," the paladin shrugged. "We've seen so much, it wouldn't surprise me if those creatures grew wings overnight either. I said we should head back inside before it gets dangerous."

A shudder ran down Boyd's back and the broad-shouldered man fingered the worn-out foghorn nervously. "And what are we gonna do? Lock ourselves inside? It won't make things better."

"We lock ourselves inside _then _we attack," Oscar corrected. "What are the arrow slits we made back when we first built this fort for? We'll fetch Shinon, Rolf, and the sages so they can attack from inside, they should be able to-"

"ARTHUR!"

Both green-haired brothers jumped at Ike's roar, and turned around to see what had caused such a reaction. Their eyes widened when they saw that while they were talking, Arthur had climbed atop the battlements surrounding the fort and was trying to get a better look at the approaching creatures. Unaware of the fact that he had made himself the easiest target ever, or simply devoid of any sense of danger at all, the sailor in training shielded his eyes from the setting sun, his sight trained on the skies.

"Arthur, for the love of everything alive, get down here!" Ike pleaded.

"There's nothing you can do!" Boyd called tentatively. "Come back!"

Arthur looked down at them. "You guys head back inside if you want to!"

"Ashera's bones, Arthur, don't be an ass!" the blue-haired commander shouted. "This is suicide!"

"No it isn't! I know what I'm doing!"

"Like hell you do! Get down!"

Arthur craned his neck to glare at Ike. "Don't act like you're my father!"

"Well, someone has to do it, now hurry up, they're closing in!" All the while Ike's eyes never left the flying creatures, that he could now recognize as members of the bird tribe. Which one, however, remained a mystery, for whatever the species, that black plague seemed to turn one into a dark moaning mess.

Boyd and Oscar had run back inside, probably in order to find some bow-wielding fighters who could be of some use against those black birds, whatever they were. And Ike had yet to bring Arthur back to safety. "What are you trying to prove, standing up there? This is not courage, this is carelessness!"

"I'm curious! Those things never attacked during daylight, don't you want to know why those are here? Don't you find it intriguing?" the teenager asked, turning around to face Ike. "What if they aren't like those wild creatures?"

"I don't want to take any chance, don't be stupid and come down, please."

Arthur sighed and nodded. Ike sighed in relief, and he watched wearily as the boy tried to decide how he was going to climb down without risking his neck with a fifteen feet-high fall. He focused so much on Arthur, however, that he never saw what was closing in on him until it was too late. "Arthur! Look out!"

The teenager whirled around just in time to see the giant talons grasp his body and take him away, which got him to gasp as the air was forced out of him.

"Fuck!" Ike swore as the bird – a crow, it seemed – rose into the air above him and got too far even for Ragnell's energy blasts.

Fortunately, Shinon chose that moment to stumble out of the fort. "What's going on?" the sniper asked.

"Shinon! Shoot it!" the commander ordered, pointing to the crow that held Arthur. "Shoot it dead! Bring it down!"

Geoffrey and Boyd came running in reinforcements as Shinon nocked an arrow. "I only have four arrows left," he told Ike as he aimed carefully.

"Who cares! Shoot the damn thing!" the Vanguard exclaimed, sweating and getting more and more worried about Arthur's welfare. He simply would _not _have anyone else die on him that day.

Shinon pulled the arrow back and fired; true to his reputation, he didn't miss his mark, and the arrow lodged itself deeply into the crow's open side. The powerful black bird gave a shrill and plummeted to the ground outside the courtyard, out of sight.

"Good job!" Ike said as he gave Shinon a friendly pat on the shoulder which, due to the commander's concern, turned into a furious slap. But the sniper just nodded and Ike ran to the gates. "Boyd, help me here!" he called as he pushed the doors open with a grunt.

Once both men managed to open the heavy gates, the whole bunch ran out of the courtyard to the fallen laguz. Arthur was sitting on the ground, holding his skull, and Geoffrey's heart skipped a beat when he realized his son had been snatched by the bird. "Arthur!" he said as he sprinted, falling to his knees next to the boy.

Ike crouched down on the other side of the teenager. "Serves you well! You're lucky Shinon never misses!" he lectured angrily.

Geoffrey pulled Arthur to him so the boy could lean against his chest. "You don't understand," the blue-haired sailor muttered, and it was obvious from his tone of voice that air had been brutally forced out of his lungs and that he was having trouble breathing. "He… She… She didn't mean harm…"

Ike took a look at the crow's light frame and soft feathers; it was clearly female. The crow had even begun to shift from a huge bird to the lithe body of a woman. "Then explain!" he ordered.

Arthur was gasping for air, but still he talked. "She's not… an enemy…"

"Then what is she? What do you mean? Tell me!"

"Easy, general, please let him breathe," Geoffrey asked as he held his son to his chest and squeezed his shoulder.

Arthur took a few calming breaths before he spoke up again. "Ike… you're surrounded by so many sharks… you fail to recognize a dolphin…"

"Stop speaking in riddle, I have no time for that!" the commander growled.

"You've just shot an ally, is that clear?" Arthur barked with the air he had left before dissolving into fits of massive coughing, his arms wrapped around his chest and especially his ribs. Geoffrey did his best to hold him up until, eventually, the boy passed out from pain.

A bad feeling came crashing over Ike, and he stood up from his crouching position to watch the skies. To his horror, a familiar dark blue crow which color he hadn't identified before was heading their way at full speed; he stepped back so the crow could land. As soon as the talons hit the ground, their shape shifted so they turned into feet, and the feathers shrunk back into the flesh they had been nestled into. All the while, Naesala never stopped running, and he only did when he fell on his knees at his daughter's side.

"Hilnis!" the King of Kilvas screamed as he took hold of his offspring's shoulders. "Wake up, please stay awake!" Naesala looked up and when he was sure the other birds were about to land as well, his attention once again turned to his wounded daughter. "Open your eyes, come on!"

"No," came the throaty mumble.

"I'm not leaving you a choice." Naesala looked down at the arrow protruding from Hilnis' hip and caressed her arm. "You are going to be all right, we'll remove that thing," he promised softly as his eldest daughter Elowyn landed beside him and shifted to her human form.

Those last words stuck a chord within Ike and snapped him out of the daydream he had been plunged in. "We can help, we can heal that," he said as he came to stand next to the fallen crow and her father. However, he didn't get the reaction he would have expected.

Naesala looked up at him and his pupils narrowed until they were dangerous slits lodged in the middle of his crimson orbs. "You," he drawled menacingly. "This happened because of you, I saw it."

"I had no choice, I thought we were being attacked!" the commander retorted. "How could I have guessed that you were crows and not those black creatures?"

"So because those freaks are black, we ought to paint ourselves yellow? I know I shouldn't have come!" Naesala roared as he sprang up and grasped Ike's throat, slamming him into the wall of the battlements. "We should have never come to help you!"

Ike gasped and tried to pry the King's hands away, to no avail. The anger Naesala felt because of the wound his daughter was suffering had empowered him, it seemed. "But that's true, you are black! Too many people died here, I was not willing to take any chance! We'll deal with this later, don't you think we ought to take her inside for now?" he croaked with the air that was allowed to enter his lungs.

"You almost kill my daughter, and you want to "deal with this later"? Oh no, you stupid human, we deal with this right now," the crow growled as his hold on Ike's neck tightened until the Vanguard turned red.

"Your Highness, look!" Janaff cried out as he caught sight of Naesala and Ike, turning to Tibarn and Ulki who had just finished abandoning their animal forms.

The powerful King of Phoenicis stepped up to the furious laguz and the struggling beorc, his brow furrowed. "This is enough!" he ordered firmly.

"Shut up!" Naesala bit back, intend on strangling Ike to death.

"Release him right now, Hilnis' life is on the line if we don't act quickly! Do you want to watch as your daughter die, Naesala?" Tibarn growled. Cruel as they may sound, those words seemed to be the blue crow's undoing; he unclenched his hands from around Ike's neck and let him fall to the ground, where the mercenary panted heavily.

Naesala turned to Tibarn, seething. "This was the worst idea you ever had. I knew I should have stayed on Kilvas and let you deal with this nonsense, but I didn't and look where it led us! Hilnis almost died!"

"And she probably will, unless you get it through your thick skull that she needs help!" the fierce hawk retorted as he lifted the light body of the young crow into his arms. "Ike, I know you're quite shocked, but could you please lead us inside?"

Through coughs and gasps, the commander nodded and staggered to the heavy gates with Tibarn following. Naesala kept up as well, his sight trained on his daughter as he mumbled words of anger. Geoffrey picked up Arthur, who had begun to come to, to carry him inside as well and make sure nothing bad happened to him.

"Rhys is busy, but I think my son can look after her," Ike whizzed once they had gotten inside the fort, to which Tibarn nodded gratefully.

Nephylio never asked why his father looked like he had been run over by horses; he just hurried Tibarn to a room where he could properly treat Hilnis' injuries when he was asked to. All the while, Naesala's eyes never left his daughter, and Elowyn kept fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, worried over her younger sister. Behind, Geoffrey was carrying an unconscious Arthur within the safe embrace of his arms.

"This wound looks worse than it actually is," Nephylio said reassuringly as Tibarn set Hilnis down on a bed with utmost care. "It will be easily taken care of, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," Kilvas King hissed between clenched teeth as he came to stand to his daughter's bedside. "I just don't trust the lot of you anymore, if I ever trusted you at all."

"Just try to understand!" Ike couldn't help but retort. "We've been holed up in here for weeks-"

"Oh, please stop, I'm going to cry," the crow mocked.

Tibarn came to stand between them as Ike began to growl. "Stop it, the both of you, now is no time to have an argument."

"He hurts my daughter and it's supposed to be _my _fault? Like I'd believe that!"

"I told Shinon to shoot her because I thought it was another attack! I didn't mean to hurt her specifically! You'll have to admit that a black creature landing and taking away one of our kids doesn't sound very friendly!" Ike spat with rage.

Naesala walked up to Ike so he could stare at him in the eyes. "She wasn't taking him away."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"Let's see, oh, maybe if you opened those things called eyes in the middle of your face, you son of an idiot!"

Nephylio struggled to keep quiet and cleaned Hilnis' wound as best as he could. He had tried to ask for silence shyly, but had quickly understood that the room wouldn't be quiet until after the two men were done yelling.

Ike crossed his arms on his chest. "I saw a black crow taking away one of us, end of the story. Some people have been infected by this thing here, it wouldn't have surprised me to learn that some crows had too!"

"We sure looked dead and sticky!" Naesala bit back.

"I'm sorry I overlooked that!"

"What a thoughtful commander you make…"

"Shut up!"

"SHUT UP!" Tibarn roared with all his might, and Janaff clasped his hands over Ulki's ears one second before the Ears of Phoenicis did so, sparing him one hell of a headache. The Hawk glared at the two blue-haired men, who had been reduced to silence. "Do you really believe now is a good time to start a war? Just keep quiet for now, you have the whole night to rip each other's throat out outside."

Nephylio sighed gratefully and quickly finished sewing Hilnis' injury closed, cleaning it a last time for good measure. "Make sure she stays unmoving for two or three days," he told Elowyn, who had watched in silence the whole time. "That way her wound won't reopen."

The young crow nodded and sat on the bed to hold her sister's hand; she was soon joined by Naesala, who was too hurt to speak again. He just chose to sit still next to Hilnis and sulk for all he was worth, scaring Nephylio away. The young healer mumbled something about checking on Arthur before scurrying out of the room, away from a tension thick enough to be cut with Ragnell.

"Well," Tibarn started calmly. "Everything ends well I guess."

"Speak for yourself," Naesala mumbled.

Tibarn shot him a warning look, but Ike sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry… I acted before I thought, I tend to do that a lot these days… I'm sorry."

Naesala waved him away, as if getting rid of a fly.

Tibarn sighed. "Well, let's talk… Tellius is in a critical state…"

"You can soar the skies, could you tell me what is happening in the rest of the world?" the commander asked politely.

"Things look really bad," the Hawk said grimly. "Cats and Tigers have moved underground to protect themselves, and we flew over only a portion of Begnion but it was enough to see that they weren't spared, far from that." The King shook his head before he pursued. "We are here to fly the survivors over to Phoenicis. For some reason, that "sickness" hasn't managed to reach our island. We think that it may be due to the sea or the cliffs…"

"But there were some cases on Kilvas," Elowyn added, still holding her sister's hand.

"We're clueless, but for now, Pheonicis is the safest place to be known, given that your capitals went down. However, we managed to find a way to stop an infected corpse from coming back to life." Ike's ears perked up. "The corpse's head has to be chopped off, and set on fire… I heard it cleaned Nevassa nicely."

"The only problem being actually managing to chop off the head," Elowyn said. "Those things are tough..."

"Rhys came up with a cure... but we don't know if it works yet," Ike said. "It would be great if we were able to save those who have been infected..."

"As of yet... our knowledge of that illness is very small, but we were able to deduce that people just... died and came back to life as monsters." Tibarn shrugged. "I'm not sure, but no antidote can bring someone back from the dead." Upon seeing Ike's crestfallen face, the Hawk had to add: "Of course it might work on those who have been infected and haven't died yet... who knows."

"Yeah, who knows." In the corner of his eyesight, Ike saw Elowyn stifle a yawn. "I'm sure you are all very tired, follow me. The room is small but I think we'll all fit in."

"We can sleep outside, there is no need to trouble yourself."

"I won't allow it," the Commander said firmly. "I've lost too many people already, I won't let this happen again. Follow me."

* * *

Lying on his back on his sleeping mat, Arthur was coughing so hard his legs twitched upward. Nephylio was kneeling beside the young man, gently pressing him down with both hands on his chest. "Relax, Arthur, you need to unwind... you're just making it worse," he whispered soothingly.

Calill was looking on, worry carved onto her features. Standing next to her was Geoffrey, with his hand on the smaller woman's shoulder in support.

"You must have fallen pretty hard to be in such a state," Nephylio mused out loud as he ran his hands up and down Arthur's chest, looking for bruises or a misplaced bone. "Can't be left out of trouble, isn't that right?"

The blue-haired sailor gave a weak smile, before another coughing fit seized him and a few droplets of blood ran down his chin. Geoffrey and Calill startled and rushed to help him, but Nephylio stopped them. "It's nothing serious, don't worry! Arthur is just having a hard time relaxing, he's in no real danger." Both parents reluctantly took a step back; Geoffrey crossed his arms and Calill began chewing on a nail, and neither were really convinced that Arthur was unharmed.

"Look up and breathe through your nose... breathe... good, that's very good, Arthur," Nephylio instructed, holding the older boy's head with one hand and pursuing his exploration of his chest with the other one. Arthur ground his teeth but managed to stay still through the whole ordeal. "It looks like you cracked something in there." The healer shook his head. "I'm sorry but we'll just have to wait until your body fixes it itself."

"Wait, can't you use your staff?" Geoffrey inquired.

"We never use staffs on internal wounds," Nephylio said calmly as he got up. "I can't see exactly what's wrong, so it might be either useless or risky, two things we cannot afford as of late."

Geoffrey nodded but cringed when Arthur coughed up some more blood. "And this... there's nothing we can do either?"

Ike's youngest son sighed. "Arthur has always been a bundle of stress... If he would just calm down, he would breathe normally, but I think a little help wouldn't hurt." Nephylio pulled a small vial out of his side pocket and handed it to Arthur. "Drink this, it'll help your throat. I'm going to see Rhys then I'll come back to check on you."

Arthur sat up groggily and drank the vial in one gulp as Nephylio walked away. Immediately, Calill came to sit next to her son and squeezed his shoulders. "You heard what Nephylio said, you have to relax... why don't you take a nap?"

Arthur nodded, leaning back against his mother. Feeling like he was intruding on something, Geoffrey uncrossed his arms and turned away. He was stopped, however, by his son's strained voice.

"Hey... you leaving?"

The former knight turned his head to look at him. "I thought your mother and you would like to be left alone," he said.

"Ho... we always have been," Arthur croaked before he coughed a little. "I thought... well... 'ver mind..." When Geoffrey turned back and leaned against the wall beside the sleeping mat, his son raised a hand in weak protest. "You don't have to stay if... you don't want to..."

"I know... you have to rest now."

Arthur nodded and let Calill lay him back down onto the mat. After a few shushing sounds and some coaxing rubs on the back, the young man drifted off into a, hopefully, restful sleep. Calill softly kissed his cheek and got up; she put a strand of golden hair behind her ear before she looked up at Geoffrey. "If you have things to do, go, I won't tell him you left."

Geoffrey shrugged. "I have nothing to do."

"Oh, all right."

Calill walked to the wall and sat down with her back against the cold surface, facing Arthur. She looked so worried and so exhausted that Geoffrey's heart itched; he came to sit down next to her. "I can watch over him if you want to rest," he offered.

But she shook her head. "I'm too worried to sleep right now." Geoffrey nodded to acknowledge her answer and a few minutes were then spent just looking at the sleeping young man in silence. Eventually, Calill spoke up. "He is... our little boy... and even if he is all grown-up now terrible things can happen to him." She hugged her own arms.

Geoffrey just nodded again, never tearing his eyes away from the sleeping figure of his son. He could feel Calill's shoulder against his upper arm; he had never realized they were sitting so close. If he came any closer he was sure he would be able to feel her breath on his arm.

The blue-haired man felt he had to say something; he opened his mouth when a pair of pants came into sight; looking up Geoffrey realized that the pants were actually connected to a body, said body belonging to Bastian. "I heard there was a problem with Arthur, is everything all right?" the sage asked.

"He is fine now, thank you Bastian," Calill answered softly, giving him a tired smile.

The man knelt in front of his female fellow, squeezing her shoulders. "You don't look so good... are you worried?"

The woman sighed a little. "A bit," she admitted. She didn't resist when Bastian pulled her to him for a hug; she pressed her cheek into his shoulder and let his embrace soothe her for a few seconds. "I think this situation is getting to us all."

"That it does." Bastian hugged her a little harder before letting go. "Courage, everything will turn out to be all right." He patted her hand and got up, off to resume whatever he was doing before.

Calill sat back against the wall, her arms once again coming up to hug her own frame. Geoffrey felt the need to comfort her. "Don't worry, he's going to get better, and I'm sure General Ike and his mercenaries are going to come up with a plan to get us all out of here," he said quietly. She just nodded, but she didn't seem relieved. Strange, how Bastian hadn't needed words for once and a mere hug had done so much to relax Calill. He wondered if... no, she would never let him. But still he had to try. "Come here," he whispered as he put one arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side.

At first she was startled, but she didn't protest. So Geoffrey took the liberty to wrap his other arm around her front and pull her fully against his frame, in front of himself, effectively hugging her properly. Instinctively, Calill held onto Geoffrey's shoulder with one hand while she watched as Arthur slept.

Feeling bold, Geoffrey caressed her back. "It's going to be all right."

Calill nodded, this time with more conviction, as she leaned her head on his shoulder and enjoyed the light touches along her back. "Hey," she whispered, and he turned his head to look at her as best as he could. "I remember this scent... it hasn't changed." She nuzzled his shoulder gently, inhaling his scent. Speechless, Geoffrey responded by inhaling the scent of her golden hair, and memories began to flood back. Her smile, her laugh, the scent of her hair, the taste and the softness of her skin as she lay naked beneath his rough hands and exploring mouth... Geoffrey shook his head to clear his mind.

Suddenly, Calill returned his hug as if she had never hugged anyone. The former knight stifled a gasp, but quickly recovered and brought a hand up to stroke her hair. He thought he had gone too far when Calill unwound her arms from around his waist, but it was only to wrap them tightly around his neck. Her cheek was pressing against the side of his neck, as if it had always fit there, and she absent-mindedly caressed the soft blue hair on Geoffrey's nape. His nose was in her hair, his arms around her small frame. He felt like he couldn't be happier.

Suddenly, he heard her mutter something undecipherable into his shoulder.

"I didn't catch that," he said, rubbing her shoulder blade.

Calill hesitated for a little while. "I said I just realized how much I missed this," she admitted softly.

Geoffrey hugged her tighter. "I've missed this too," he told her, and the hint of a genuine smile tugged at his lips.

Calill put her chin on his shoulder and, with her mouth right next to his ear, she murmured. "I... I think it is you I have missed so much."

The blue-haired man struggled to keep his smile from growing as he pulled her even closer. "Do I deserve you?"

"If my heart had a mouth, it would be screaming yes." Geoffrey's hand stilled on her back, and she knew she couldn't get away. "I love you too much to let you go."

"There was a time I thought I didn't love you, but... I realized I never stopped loving you, all along... I'm so sorry, Calill, I-"

"I understand, you had your reasons," the sage told him softly, pressing her cheek against his shoulder once more.

He shook his head. "No, I had no right to cause you such grief... or Arthur's grief... and now, my own... it hurts, it hurts so much to think about this." He was interrupted when Calill pulled away to grab his face, staring at him. "What is it?"

"Just as I thought... you speak from your heart." Geoffrey slowly bit his lower lip as the woman he loved kept scrutinizing his face. "You were really sad those past few days... No, don't look down." She held his chin and brought his eyes up where she could see them. "You made some mistakes... I did, too... When we separated, I should have told you I was pregnant. I thought you would visit me, so I waited, so much in fact that I gave birth to Arthur and you still hadn't come. And if I had visited you with Arthur, there would have been a risk that the other nobles find out that Arthur was yours and that he was... well, a bastard." Calill shifted. "I was afraid you would hate him."

"I would never be able to hate my own son."

"But the nobles-"

"I don't care about the nobles. This isn't your fault, Calill, I should have sent you letters. Hell, I should have come to you from the start." Geoffrey ran a hand through his blue hair as he always did whenever he felt uneasy. "My responsibilities as a general... I can't deny they were important, but day after day, I found myself wondering if my duty alone was worth the fight. I got sick of it... I should have written to you."

"Or I should have."

"I am an idiot..."

"We both are idiots. We both hurt and got hurt, and there's nothing we can say that is going to erase the past seventeen years." Geoffrey nodded wordlessly. "And considering the situation we all are in, there's no point in staying mad at one another, don't you think?"

He nodded again and pulled her closer, resting his chin on her head while she nuzzled into his neck comfortably. "I missed you so much," she whispered.

"I still love you."

"I never stopped."

Geoffrey pulled back a little to kiss her forehead; that was when he noticed that her eyes had watered. "Oh no, there's no need to..." he muttered as he wiped her eye.

Calill wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry, it's just... all those years without crying catching up to me, I guess."

"I know how it feels." Geoffrey hugged her tight, his hand on the back of her head. "There's no need to bottle it up."

These words seemed to be Calill's undoing; she pressed herself against his strong frame as the tears ran freely but silently down her cheeks. Needing support, she latched herself onto Geoffrey's back with one hand and onto the hair at the back of his head with the other, her cheeks pressed up against his ear as she released years of pent up despair. He did his best to comfort her until her sobs were reduced to sniffles, his hand drawing circles up and down her back.

"All better now?" he asked gently, and smiled a little when he felt her nod.

Calill pulled away to look at him and give him a weak smile. He put his hand on her cheek to wipe a remaining tear, and she put her own hand atop his, stroking his roughened knuckles. She had a pensive look. "What's on your mind?" he inquired.

She responded by tracing a finger along Geoffrey's lower lip; the man wasn't sure what her intentions were, but it soon dawned on him when she leaned forward to peck his lips almost shyly. He couldn't blame her – he felt like a teenager all over again – but shyness wasn't becoming of her. Geoffrey reached out and held her face in his hands, bringing it closer to his own to give her the gentlest kiss he could. He was delighted when she began kissing him back, and the hands on her face began to drift down, settling on her shoulder and her hip.

When they parted, Calill nuzzled his nose with a soft smile, which he mirrored. "I can't remember for my life why I let you out of my sight in the first place," Geoffrey whispered before leaning in for another kiss.


End file.
